


1000 nights

by Excalipurr, MoskaFleur



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Bachelor Party, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Canon Gay Character, Denial of Feelings, Drinking Games, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Bar, Gay Richie Tozier, Gay Sex, Heavy Drinking, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Jealousy, Las Vegas, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Self-Denial, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Knows All, Stanley Uris Loves Patricia Blum Uris, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Touch-Starved, ben and bev are a side pairing, drag bill denbrough challenge, eddie was never injured in the first place, everyone survived, mentions of vomit and piss, mike hanlon deserved a personality challenge, stan is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excalipurr/pseuds/Excalipurr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoskaFleur/pseuds/MoskaFleur
Summary: It had started off as a joke. That morning, less than a month ago, when Bev dropped the bombshell that she and Ben were getting married. It had been just five months after the reunion; she just simply sent a picture of a pale, freckled hand wearing an engagement ring to the group chat they all shared, and it went off. Richie’s phone screen quickly became an emoji festival.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 64
Kudos: 742





	1. Lucky Strike

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a role-play between us, inspired by a prompt I came up with on twitter because the idea was just too funny to me (Moska).
> 
> Moska= Richie  
> Nimueh= Eddie

It had started off as a joke. That morning, less than a month ago, when Bev dropped the bombshell that she and Ben were getting married. It had been just five months after the reunion; she just simply sent a picture of a pale, freckled hand wearing an engagement ring to the group chat they all shared, and it went off. Richie’s phone screen quickly became an emoji festival.

B-B-Bill, 11:25am: Congratulations guys 🎉

Eds, 11:26am: Happy for you! 

Richie, 11:27am: Oh. My. God.

Mike, 11:27am: 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Richie, 11:27am: 💍 that shit looks heavy

Richie, 11:27am: 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 

Mike, 11:28am: 👰🤵💒

Stan the Man, 11:29am: you forgot 🙏🏻

Richie, 11:29am: 💑💑💑💑

Stan the Man, 11:30am: Congratulations! From Patty too

Ben, 11:31am: Thanks guys! ❤️

Richie, 11:31am: 🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

Richie, 11:32am: issa partaaay 🎈

Bev, 11:33am: you bring a red balloon to our wedding, I’ll cut you 

Eds, 11:34am: here, you can have mine 🔪

Mike, 11:35am: WAIT

Stan the Man, 11:35am: …

Mike, 11:36am: Bachelor party in Las Vegas, amirite???!!!

B-B-Bill, 11:37: Mike…

Eds, 11:36am: NO.

Richie, 11:36am: YES!

Ben, 11:37am: I’ve never been to Las Vegas.

Mike, 11:38am: he’s never been to Las Vegas, I’ve never been to Las Vegas...

B-B-Bill, 11:39am: you’ll regret this

Mike, 11:40am: you owe me, I stayed for 27 years in the dullest town of the US for your sorry asses

Bev, 11:42am: he’s got a point

Eds, 11:43am: *sighs*

Richie, 11:44am: it’s ooooooon 🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾

Stan, 11:45am: *Stan has left the chat*

So now Richie is very unironically driving to Las Vegas, tapping on the wheel as nervousness kicks in at the prospect of seeing Eddie for the first time in six months. He hadn’t think this through.

"So, what's the plan here? Strippers? Gambling? Hard drugs? Arson? I'm game if you are, you know me." Richie jokes. And Ben gives him a look that says ' _beep beep, Richie_ '. "I'm just saying this happens once in a lifetime. And I mean it, because they might not let us come back after we're done with the place. Man, I might be 40 but we've already missed three group bachelor's parties at this point, this is our last chance to enjoy one."

Ben muses over the statement. "What about yours? Don't you see yourself tying the knot?" He adds playfully.

"I don't wanna sound dramatic but I'd rather shove a broom up my ass and walk to Michigan" he replies and Ben laughs.

There's a brief pause. "I'm surprised Bev isn't coming, it feels weird that she's not around"

Ben sighs. "I know, but she was okay with it, being a dudes' night and all. She's doing the same with Patty and some of her friends. It's just one night, right? Come on, you shouldn't make me feel guilty, you're her... Man-of-honor?" 

Richie's eyes are on the road. They've been driving for a while now, he's a bit tired. "No guilt, sir, just wondering. But if you're both alright with it..."

"How's Eddie?" Ben interrupts, and it's like a iced-water bucket fell on his shoulders. 

"Dunno, man, he hasn't been exactly chatty lately... something up?"

"Nothing in particular, he's been kinda quiet for a few months but he didn't put much resistance to this plan... Knowing him? I don't know, felt kinda weird. Figured you might know more since you've always been... You know, closer"

Richie glances briefly at him. Ben's staring at the road, distracted. Richie fixes his eyes on it too but his pulse quickens a bit. "What's that even mean, 'closer'?"

"Well, you know-" Ben doesn't even get to finish the sentence.

They both share a look and Richie just _knows_.

They share another look and Ben looks guilty. He knows.

"Jesus Christ..." Richie mutters turning to the road again.

Ben can tell the air is thick. Richie is uncomfortable. Maybe a bit pissed at Bev. "In her defense... I'll say I should've seen it coming back then. It was just... The natural progression of things, nothing weird or wrong with it, Rich, really"

Richie sighs. "Well, you're all ruining my coming out speech. That's also considered a hate crime. Somewhere. Probably."

Ben laughs and pats him on the shoulder. And it's like the weight in his chest is lighter.

“So… no strippers?”

“Nope”

The rest of the trip goes smoothly; they stop to eat and Ben takes the wheel for the remaining of the journey. He doesn't bring up Eddie again, for which Richie is grateful, but he can't help thinking about what he said.

_Since you've always been… you know, closer._

He shakes off the thought, bringing out the phone to call Stan. He picks up almost instantly.

“Stan, mah man!”

“Aren't you supposed to he driving?” Stan says on the other end.

“Bold of you to assume I can't do both” Riche says, and he could swear Stan is rolling his eyes “But no, Ben is, I'm just chilling”

“So…” Stan says “is there a purpose to your call or are you just bored?”

“I'm not bored, Ben is fantastic company” he doesn't look at Ben, but he can see him shake his head and smile from the corner of his eye “Just wanted to know if you were already there”

“I am. Mike’s here too”

“HI MIKE!!!” Richie says, way too loudly.

Ben winces. 

“He can't hear you. That's not how phones work” but his voice sounds much further than before.

“Hi Rich” Mike says now.

“See? It worked” 

“Stan is currently walking away”

“That's fine, just wanted to let you know we'll be there in… 30?” then glances at Ben, looking for confirmation. He nods. “Yes, Ben says 30”

“Great, we'll meet you at the lobby”

“Laterz”

“Bye Rich”

***

Eddie takes a deep breath as he steps through the main door of the hotel they're staying in. They've kept in touch for the last six months, sending the occasional message through the whatsapp group Bev had created. It's not enough to calm Eddie down, though. Seeing them in person again is much more real and tangible than exchanging casual information over the phone.

The lobby looks pretty crowded at this time, but that just might be because he's in Las Vegas and that is the normal state of the place. He spots Ben in a table across the bar, alongside him there's Mike, Stan, Bill and Richie. All talking and laughing like they hadn't been apart for most of their lives, it's very much like the night of the reunion. 

Mike notices him standing there and waves at him. Eddie makes his way through the crowd, and when he gets to the table, they're all standing up to greet him.

Bill wraps his arms around him in a hug “Good to see you, man”

Mike follows, not even waiting for Bill to pull apart. It's too much physical contact in too little time. He needs some distance. Ben reads his face and simply pats him on the shoulder, while Stan offers his hand to shake. He's always been the polite one of them all. 

“Glad not to be the last one to show up, like last time” says Stan, and Eddie laughs awkwardly. 

Richie stands right beside him, and Eddie hopes he doesn't look as uncomfortable as he did back at the restaurant. 

“Hey Eds” Richie says, but does nothing else. No handshake, no patting, no hug. He simply waves at him.

He wants to say _Don't call me Eds_ but refrains himself from doing it. They've just got together-- like five minutes ago, he’ll wait a bit more before starting a fight.

“Hey Richie” he says back, contained and awkward.

“Okay,” Mike says after clapping his hands “now that we're all together, let's get this party started!”

Stan looks at him with a frown “Who are you?”

“Right now? My favorite person” Richie cuts in, and Mike grins at him in response “Let's get fucking hammered!”

It doesn't sound like the worst idea in the world.

***

Richie orders 5 shots per person and they set them on a line in front of each one of them. Eddie and Stan spend more than 10 seconds making sure they're aligned. The game is simple: each shot is question opportunity, so every time you ask one, you have to drink one of your shots, and if you get asked a question but don’t give an answer, you have to drink too. 

Richie switches to one of his British grave voices and says "Gentlemen, shall we begin? Bill, my dear, why don't you tell us about this new book you so proudly published last week?"

Bill clears his throat and sits up straight “It’s uhm-- It’s wuh-weird because I s-s-started writing it buh-before Mike called and afterwards it was hard fuh-fuh-for me t-to finish it. I'm afraid it d-d-didn't turn out as it should've. But it's selling fah-fah-fine”

Richie nods, proud. "Can't be that bad, your problem is you always kill the ones who deserve to live, man. You can't make everyone love a character just to kill them afterwards."

Bill is about to protest but Richie keeps talking. "You see, Billy boy, you can do that once, maybe even twice. But if you do that in every book it starts to get boring" He chugs a shot and smiles at Bill, who seems insulted.

"Y-y-you think my stuff is boring?!"

"Not all of it, but come on, you gotta know that something's up. Stop killing your characters, man" 

"I think it's weird that you always kill the gay ones" Stan intervenes and Richie points at him with his finger and mouths 'my man' and then turns to Bill again.

"N-n-not all of t-t-them were gay!" Bill protests and Stan gives him ' _the look_ '.

Richie lets his butt slide over the chair until he's in a very strangely comfortable position. "See, I'm not the only one, Bill. They know what's up."

"Mike, you're o-o-on my side, right?" Bill pleads, but Mike mirrors Stan expression. 

"Sorry, man, can't help you" and laughs quietly.

"Oh, come on, you can't be serious, some of them weren't gay, they're just friends"

"Bill, Big Bill, my man, that's the most homophobic shit you could say at the moment. Knights of the Round Table, I hereby declare that Bill is to be shunned for 10 minutes, due to a life of writing gay deaths."

Bill shrugs defeatedly and Richie moves to push one of Bill's shots closer to him. "Drink one, you earned it, man"

Bill drinks it and coughs a bit, whatever they're drinking it's strong. "H-h-how come you're bullying m-m-me and not Eddie, fuck off!" 

Richie turns to Eddie in that instant and Eddie squints at him as if saying ' _try me bitch_ ' and there's nothing Richie wants more.

Richie leans closer to Eddie, who's sitting in the lounge chair next to his. "I'm just gonna go with what we're all thinking here..."

There's a pause, and Eddie swallows and prays that it went unnoticed.

"... Any awesome risks analysed lately?" A crumpled napkin thrown by Stan hits Richie in the face.

“Fuck off” he says with a fake smile.

“You just wasted a question to make that joke, and it's not even funny” Stan calls him out. 

“Woh woh, hold your horses” he says as he points his head at Eddie “He hasn't answered” then winks at him “Drink up, Eds”

Eddie glares at him “Don't call--”

“--me Eds” Richie finishes “Geez, you're getting repetitive, man” but then smiles and cocks an eyebrow at him “Come on, take the shot”

In response, Eddie shoots daggers at him but grabs the shot and chugs it down in one go, never taking his eyes away from Richie.

For the first time, Richie is thankful that he's 40 because otherwise that look alone would've been enough to give him a boner. Richie drinks too, since he made the question. 3 more to go.

“My turn” Mike cuts in, and Richie turns his attention to him. “Ben”

“Oh” Richie says “Interesting”

Ben looks up, shifts on his seat and braces for the question. 

“I'm ready” 

“I'm sure we're all dying to know how Big Ben--” Richie gasps, and mouths at Bill ‘ _I call him that_ ’, “--is in the bedroom”

Bill would have spit out his drink had he been drinking; but because he hadn’t, he just chokes on his saliva.

“So… the question is...”

Ben is already sinking in his seat, blushing to the tip of his ears.

“Mr. Hanscom, are you a top or a bottom?”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his mouth drops. That's a question he'd never expect coming from Mike. He looks at Ben, who is absurdly red. 

Richie can barely refrain himself “Mike, my man, I could kiss you right now”.

Mike grins at him and nods in a way that all but says ‘ _you're welcome_ ’.

“Please, don't” begs Stan, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. 

When the attention returns to Ben he lowers his head, averting everyone's gaze. He rubs his hand over his knee, “I don't know-- we don't-- we're versatile, man, I don't know”

Stan covers his face with his hands. “Someone ask another question, please, end this man’s suffering”

Richie cackles, "You fucking liar, Bev clearly tops your sorry ass and you know it. That's my girl!"

Ben stifles a laugh but ends up drinking, even though he answered. He'll need the alcohol to get through the night.

Bill nudges Mike's side "Y-y-you have tuh-tuh-to drink t-too"

Mike takes the shot, brings it closer to his mouth and smiles proudly right before downing it.

“Who's next?” says Mike, as he sets down the shot glass.

There's a brief silence, in which Richie glances at his shots, deciding whether using one of his questions now or later. Eddie interrupts his thoughts when he says, “I'll go”.

“You?” Richie asks, skeptical.

“Yes,” and bites back, “what's the problem, asshole?”

Richie simply smiles and bows his head as if saying go ahead. 

With an exasperated sigh, Eddie turns his gaze away from Richie and sets it on Stan.

“My question is for Stan”

Stan’s hands, which were still covering his face, run slowly down his face until Eddie can look him in the eye. He won't put up with a question like the one Mike just asked Ben, and that's fine, because Eddie doesn't want to ask that type of question. That's why he chose Stan, Stan is safe, and having Stan on your side is always good.

“Best bird documentary you've seen since we last saw each other?”

Richie throws out his arms, “Wasn't there an even more boring question? I've grown old just by listening the words ‘ _best bird documentary_ ’” then to Mike, in an old lady voice “can you pass me my pill box, love”

Mike laughs, unrestrained, while Ben fights to repress a chuckle. 

Stan looks like he could kill him, but Eddie is the one to speak. “Shut the fuck up, Richie”

Ignoring Richie, Stan says to Eddie (and just to Eddie), “Thank you for asking. There's actually a very interesting mexican documentary-- it's called _Birders_ , and it just came out this year... It's on Netflix”

Eddie nods as Stan speaks, not because he's actually that interested, but because he knows it annoys Richie. When Stan’s done speaking, no one has to remind him to drink his shot.

It goes on like that for a while. Someone asks a question, someone answers (or doesn’t) and the amount of shots before them is cut by less than half quicker than expected. Richie is having the time of his life, bending over with laughter and saving his last shots for something good. And for some reason, Eddie can’t stand it. It might be because he suspects (and he has every reason to) that he’s going to use them against him. He knows Richie, and Richie knows him, probably better than anyone. He aimed straight to the core of Eddie’s insecurities back at the Jade of the Orient, he has no doubt he’s going to do it again. The only way to avoid that is to make him run out of opportunities; so he asks a question and hopes for the best outcome.

“Hey, asshole” 

Richie is already looking at him, an instant reaction to the insult he knows belongs mostly to him when Eddie says it.

“I have a question for you” he’s starting to drawl a little bit, alcohol already kicking in, and it’s in that moment that he realises he’s really not used to drink. He’s only two shots down, for god’s sake.

“Shoot, Spaghetti-man” he teases.

Richie exudes confidence, smiling smugly at him. He doesn’t know if it comes from the alcohol or from some type of narcissism but, either way, Eddie wants to wipe that smile from his face.

“Are you still doing stand-up after the big fuck-up?” he feels the rest of the guys tense up, but it doesn’t stop him. “Any gigs in the foreseeable future?”

"Why, Eddie, my love, you think something like that could stop me and my trashmouth?"

Eddie doesn't let his gaze waver. 

"Because it kind of did" Richie laughs, but it's bitter. "I kind of broke my contract when I went to Derry... lost a lot of money and shit. And to be honest with you, guys, I didn't feel like I could keep up that stage persona. I'm... I'm taking a break. Let's just leave it at that." He takes a shot and gulps it down like water.

"You didn't have to drink it" Eddie says.

"Oh, I wanted to" Richie laughs and his eyes set on Eddie's, back to being playful. And yet, he would swear they look almost sad. Eddie’s determination falters at that. He feels kind of guilty now, so he shakes the feeling off by downing his shot. 

There's a brief silence, just a few seconds, before Bill rubs his hands against his thighs and asks, “S-s-so, Mike, how’s th-th-the travelling going?”

Ben leans forward, showing sudden interest “Yes, man, where you've been?”

Mike sits back and stretches out his arms, finally resting his hands behind his neck. 

“It's been great, really” he says with a sincere smile “Haven't travelled much, though. I'm staying in Florida for the time being. The weather is just-- it's nothing like Maine. Everything is going great, it's-- yeah, really good”

“Th-th-that’s great, man”

“It was about time you got out of that shithole” Stan adds.

Ben nods in agreement and stares at Bill, who looks back at him with a frown.

“Pretty sure that was a question”

“Yep, Big Bill” Richie says “you gotta drink”

Richie turns to Eddie again and cocks his head to the side playfully, "So, Eds, how's your mo- I mean wife?"

“Fucking hilarious” he says and gets all defensive. He can't help it, it's an automatic response, “You’re so funny... I don't get why you haven't closed a Netflix deal yet. They must be waiting for Louie CK to get another harassment lawsuit, I'm sure when that happens you'll be the next person they call to fill that spot” 

Richie stares at him, smile as wide as it can get. "Look at you! And here I thought your mom took your balls to the grave!"

Richie wonders if that went too far but Eddie's expression doesn't change, he's not uncomfortable.

“Funny how I'm supposed to be the one with mommy issues, yet you're the one who won't shut up about her” Eddie smirks at him, taking pleasure in the general "ouch" response it gets from the rest of their friends.

Richie smirks back but he's getting restless. "Eds, you keep this up and we're gonna need a room". This earns him a couple of laughs from Bill and Mike, but Ben's is quieter. "I have the feeling you're just deflecting my question and that means you gotta drink, buddy!"

"I'm not deflecting shit, dickwad. I just don't get why the fuck you're so interested"

“Sounds like you are, though” Stan cuts in.

He snaps his head at Stan “Why are you on his team all of a sudden?”

“I'm not on anyone's team” he says matter-of-factly “I’d rather be getting drunk like normal people do, without silly games. But we're playing and those are the rules”

Eddie stares at him, weighing his options, but he's right, he knows he's right.

“Okay. Fine” 

He takes the shot, chugs it down and sets it back with a thud.

"You gotta drink yours too, asshole" he says, pointing a finger at Richie.

"With pleasure, my friend" and Richie does as he's told.

***

The remaining shots are drunk after that, but Richie, to everyone’s surprise, doesn’t use his last one to wind Eddie up. After the shots, it comes the gambling. Someone (Richie) suggests they go to the hotel casino and Mike seconds his proposal a little too enthusiastically. Stan seems indecisive at first but somehow Bill is keeping the alcohol coming and the more he drinks, the less he cares.

Once they step into the casino, slots are their first choice. It’s a classic. There’s no strategy, just luck. They lose a fair amount of money, but manage to win some back. They leave the slots when Eddie starts barking at an old lady because ‘ _that was my fucking machine, ma’am!’_

What follows after is craps. It doesn’t have the glamour films portray; it’s just a bunch of inebriated people yelling numbers, rolling dices and complaining about the outcome. Richie swears he’s good at it, blowing into his hand and focusing on the number before rolling the dice time after time. He doesn’t win once. 

When they reach the roulette, Eddie’s lost count of how many drinks he’s had. _Shots, then gintonic, then beer--_ he shakes his head off, closes his eyes as if to focus _No, no. It was shots, beer, vodka… then gintonic? Fuck, I can’t think straight._ His cheeks feel hot, and they’re probably rosy, and he can’t for the life of him stop giggling at absolutely everything.

The rest of the group doesn’t look any better. For a big guy like Ben, he sure looks like he’s going to pass out any moment now. He’s holding onto Mike to maintain his standing position, and he’s leaning over him, saying something just inches away from his ear.

Mike catches Eddie’s quizzical look, and says (louder than he should) “He’s just telling me how perfect Bev is and how much he loves her!” 

Eddie raises his glass —he can’t even remember what’s in it anymore— and nods at him in response.

Stan, who seemed so reluctant just a couple of hours before, is currently grabbing Richie by the shoulders, looking up at him and saying things like “I really appreciate you, man. I know I’m--I’m always being sarcasting and-- and telling you that-- that-- you’re a pain in the ass, and that--that-- you’re not funny but-- I don’t believe it. Well-- I believe it just a bit but-- but I love you, dude. You’re-- you’re a good bloke”.

Out of nowhere, Bill’s arm wraps Eddie’s shoulders and brings him closer, only to say “Eeeeeeddie” right into his ear. Eddie can’t help but giggle, _again_.

“I’m… very drunk” he goes on to say, lazily pointing a finger at him. “And you’re very drunk too”. No sign of the stutter. 

Eddie straightens, puts on a serious face, “I’m not drunk, I’m just dizzy” but is unable to hold back the guffaw that takes over both them.

***

Richie has never been this drunk ever. And yet, he's not a tired drunk, he's excited, he feels like dancing, maybe singing. So they move to a karaoke saloon, the have their own private booth. Ben is mostly unconscious from the moment they sit him on the couch. He didn't expect Ben to be such a lightweight.

The first round is between Bill and Richie, and Eddie doesn't think he can be more embarrassed than this, but then Stan and Mike have a go at it and, boy, was he wrong. Richie is sitting beside him laughing his ass off. Stan can't sing for shit. It's even worse than Bill.

They try to wake Ben up to sing with Eddie but he's not having it, so Richie takes his place. And they end up singing Dancing Queen.

It goes terribly. It doesn't sound nothing like the original, they stumble upon the lyrics and top it off by screaming their lungs off at the chorus. Stan covers his ears to block as much noise as he can while Mike loudly cheers for them like a groupie. It's a complete mess, but it’s the most fun Eddie's had in years. 

When the song comes to an end, they both flop down on the couch, exhausted. Eddie's face hurts from smiling but he can't help it. There's nothing that could make him stop grinning like a goof right now. He feels so good. He feels so fucking good.

Bill erupts through the door and Richie almost feels bad that he's so drunk he didn't even notice he left in the first place, but the moment he sees Bill is carrying a tray full of shots he jumps from the couch to get two and then collapses on it again, without spilling the liquor.

Stan sits up and unsuccessfully tries to stop Richie from getting the shots. His movements are everything but coordinated, but somehow he manages to grab Richie's arm.

“You ssshould ssstop drinking, maybe?” he says, dragging the words along.

Richie gives one of the shots to Eddie and their fingers grace each other as they pass it. Then he pats Stan on the head successfully pushing him back into the couch. "Go drunk, you're home" and he laughs. "I've never been this drunk and I feel great, come on, lighten up, man!" 

He quickly records a short boomerang clip of Stan frowning drunkenly at Eddie and him and uploads to his instagram account.

Without second thought, Eddie takes the shot Richie's given him.

“Look what you'rrre doing to poorrr Eddie” Stan says. “You'rrree corrup--corrupting him”

Eddie looks at Stan and leans forward, hand wrapping around Richie's arm for balance “Hey, smartass,” but the way his lips curve proves there's no bite in his words, “nobody is making me do anything, okay? I'm a full-- I’m a fully grown man--”

“You're kinda tiny” Richie intervenes.

“Shut up” he tells him. “I'm a fully grown man that can make his own choices and-- and I want this” and as he says it, he takes one of the remaining shots in the trail (belonging to passed out Ben and Stan) and chugs it down.

Richie's arm is on fire. Eddie's still holding it for no reason and he's so drunk he might as well enjoy it while it lasts. 

"I'm just gonna lay over here, just in case someone ends up vomiting. And by someone I mean Richie" Stan mutters from his side of the couch. Mike's been singing for a few minutes, and Bill is trying to join him but he doesn't know the lyrics. That or he can't read for shit.

As soon as Eddie hears the word _vomiting_ , the tiniest part of his brain that still holds some common sense, reacts and he lets go off of Richie's arm like it burns, putting some distance between the two of them by scooting over to the side.

Richie looks at Stan like he just kicked a puppy and then turns to Eddie, drunkenly. "No, no, no, c'mere, Eds. No one's throwing up tonight." He tries to grab a hold of Eddie who's scooting over to the left as far from Richie as possible. Richie finally manages to climb over him and places a hand near his heart. "I swear on your mom's vagina".

Eddie grimaces, scrunching up his face “That's fucking disgusting, Richie” then looks up at him; he's very close, and he's smiling. It's one of those drunk smiles-- very loose, very goofy. “I swear to God, if you fucking throw up on me-- No, no, if you fucking throw up anywhere near me--”

Richie muses and pretends to gag which has Eddie widening his eyes and gasping, his arms grab Richie's so he doesn't come any closer, but then Richie starts laughing. "Wouldn't throw up on you, Eds, who do you take me for?" 

"But I do have to pee" Richie frees himself from Eddie's hold and gets up fast. So fast he almost trips over the coffee table.

“I take you for what you are. And what you are is a fucking animal”. Eddie says, as he stands up and feels off-balance, the alcohol rushing up to his head. “Wait-- I’ll go with you, I have to pee too”.

Richie looks him up and down. “You sure you'll make it to the toilet?”

“The fuck you're trying to say, dipshit? Of course I will!”

Richie pats Bill on the back as they leave the room, and Bill falls forward.

Drunkenly walking through the corridors of a Las Vegas hotel is one of the most difficult things Eddie has endured —and he’s fought and defeated a killer clown. He stops every few steps, tries to steady himself up and resumes the staggering. 

Now that he’s standing, his limbs seem heavier than usual and he feels the sudden need to lean on something, let some of that weight be taken off of him. 

The closest thing is Richie, so Eddie wraps a hand around Richie’s upper-arm and rests his head on his shoulder. 

Richie freezes briefly at the unexpected contact, but he pulls himself together before Eddie can notice him tensing up. 

They walk like that the rest of the way to the toilet, Eddie’s body pressed against Richie’s. It’s a miracle they both don’t stumble and fall forward. Or backwards, or sideways-- anything could’ve happened considering the state they were in. 

But it’s nice, having someone let you lean on them, fully knowing they’ll do their best to keep you walking on a straight line even if they can’t do that themselves.

There's no one in the toilet which is both strange, considering the building is full of drunk people, and comforting because Richie doesn't want to embarrass himself more than necessary. He sets one of the urinals that's far from the entrance and unzips and pulls his dick out to take a leak.

That's when Eddie sets in the one right beside him, humming to the music coming from one of the near karaoke rooms.

Eddie mirrors Richie’s actions, not even mildly bothered by the fact that their shoulders are virtually brushing against each other. 

Richie feels himself sober up instantly at the realization of how close they are and how weird this is, but says nothing. Just tries not to do anything that’ll make this even weirder.

So they pee, as if they weren’t side to side in an empty men’s room with plenty space for a football team to train in. And there are few things more liberating than peeing when you’re insanely drunk and had been holding it for far too long, so Eddie can’t help but tilt his head back and let out a breath when that freeing sensation washes over him.

And it's like a bucket of iced-water runs down Richie's back. So he has to say something or he'll combust. "That good, huh? You kinky bastard"

Eddie sighs, and a smile creeps in, “Why do you have to make everything sexual, asshole?” There’s no bite in the insult, none whatsoever.

"Been too long, I guess" he mutters and finishes.

Eddie smiles through heavy-lidded eyes, the dim lights of the toilets are making him sleepy. ‘ _Why the fuck would they pick this lightning for a men’s room?’_ but then thinks ‘ _probably so you can’t peep over other people’s dicks’_.

“That’s the second time tonight you answer a question without fucking around” then zips and walks over the sink to wash his hands “I’m impressed”

Richie follows him. "Don't sound so smug, you little shit." And he raises his hand and tries to touch Eddie. Eddie looks confused at first but then realises Richie hasn't washed his hands yet and jumps back, almost falling.

Richie starts cackling and has to lean on the sink before he falls too.

“It’s not funny, dipshit! It’s very unsen--unsanite-- unsanitary, _fuck._ ” Eddie says, but seeing Richie bent over the sink laughing his ass off, cracks him up. 

They come out of the toilet after Richie washes his hands, and Eddie grabs his arm again to steady himself. 

"Which one was our booth?"

“Number six” he says firmly, but then, “Or was it nine?-- No, no, it was six, yeah... definitely six”

Richie ignores Eddie's warm body pressed against his side as they walk. But Eddie keeps laughing and Richie finds his laugh pretty fucking amusing.

They reach their destination but the booth is empty.

"Maaan, I think they left without us"

“What?” Eddie says, pushing Richie aside and sticking his head in. “Where the fuck did they go?”

Richie moves away from the door and stands with his back against the corridor wall. “So, what now?” he asks.

Eddie turns his head to look at him, boring into his eyes in a way that makes Richie shiver, “I’m not done for tonight” he says, poking Richie’s chest with his finger. “Fuck these guys. We don’t need them to have fun”.

Richie suppresses a gasp and looks at him in drunken wonder. "Mr. Kaspbrak, you're a menace." he says in one of his feminine voices. "Lead the way, compadre!!!"

So he does. He turns around, grabs Richie’s wrist and drags him along. Richie wonders when Eddie’s ability to walk surely came back. It’s like the faster they walk the easier it gets. If they were to go for a slow walk, he’d end up falling on his face on some wall. It’s almost as if drunkenness had been set aside and determination had taken over him. 

They go back to the casino, play some more, lose some more. Drink some more.

In the end, Eddie gets each of them one more shot, which Richie nearly refuses. Nearly because in all honesty, there are very few things Richie would say no to if Eddie asked. And there’s probably nothing he’d say no to if he asked the right way. 

They’re back at the slots, Richie is sitting on the stool in front of the machine and Eddie is pressed against his back, chin propped against his shoulder. Richie tries to pinpoint the moment Eddie became so physical, he needs to find out the exact number of drinks he’d had before getting all touchy. He needs that _fucking_ number, and he needs to never again let him drink that much because it’s driving him crazy.

“I know what we’re doing now!” Eddie blurts.

Richie turns his head only just, afraid if he does more he’ll find Eddie just _too_ close. He raises an eyebrow skeptically, but Eddie moves over and meets his gaze-- wide, gleaming eyes staring at him, rose-cheeked, a smile curving into a thin smile when he says “Come with me”

And Richie can’t be held responsible for going along with it.

It’s ten minutes later, when they reach their destination and they’re standing in front of the tackiest Las Vegas chapel, that Richie regrets his decision.

“No, nno, nnno, sssh” Eddie is saying, “Hear me out”, but his head is spinning. 

Richie's eyes keep going back and forth between the entrance and Eddie.

"How many times are you going to have the opportunity to get married in Las Vegas?--" he asks, as if the question makes total sense, then points his head inside. "And to have it officiated by a drag queen, huh?"

Richie stares at him like Eddie just lit up the stars in the sky —and also had gone completely mad. 

And then he thinks ' _why the fuck not, it's not real anyway_ '. 

The chances of him crying his eyes out when he sobbers up tomorrow however, those are gonna be fucking real as shit. But he can't care less at the moment. His vision is blurry, but Eddie is so fucking handsome. And tiny. "Hell yeah, bro". Because saying 'bro' makes it less gay.

Eddie beams, raises both his arms and hollers, “WOOHOO, LET’S GET FUCKING MARRIED!” 

Richie shushes him, making him lower his arms in the process, but it achieves nothing. Eddie looks like an excited puppy, looking everywhere for God knows what. An old man passes by and Eddie grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket, “Sir?”

The old man looks at Eddie, not that he has any other option, as his jacket is being held hostage, “Would you be our witness?”, then goes on to clarifying, “my friend and I are getting married”.

He looks them up and down, probably thinking they’re far too drunk to be doing this, but shrugging off the thought.

“I guess I could, yes” he says, solemnly. 

Richie smiles to himself in disbelieve. Is this happening for real? ' _Who cares_ ' he thinks.

After the man agrees, Eddie thanks him and sprints inside the chapel, leaving both Richie and the old guy behind. He sticks his head out less than a minute later, “What are you waiting for? Get in here”.

And he does, he walks into the chapel, dumbfounded, and followed by the nameless man. Eddie greets him by shoving a jacket at him, “Put it on” It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.

Richie would rather have Eddie ordering him around to take his clothes off, not putting more on, but he's not about to complain. Mainly because he isn't even sure this is real. Half of his brain is convinced he fell asleep on that couch next to Ben and is having the weirdest drunk dream ever. Because the whole thing doesn't make any sense. So he goes with it and puts the jacket on. It's white. It's an Elvis’ replica.

He sees Eddie rummaging through other clothing people left in the hall. "What are you wearing, Eddie-bear?" he says, trying to imitate Mrs. Kaspbrak's voice.

He finds a horrendous Hawaiian shirt and a colorful feather boa that’ll go with it if you don’t really care about matching colors or fashion in general. He puts the shirt over his clothes and the feather boa around his neck, not fully wrapping it around. 

It’s the worst outfit Richie’s ever seen and he still thinks Eddie looks good in it, so he takes out his phone and snaps a picture. Oddly enough, Eddie doesn’t protest.

But then again, there is nothing normal about tonight.

Time passes for Richie like it’s something physical, something his eyes can perceive. Eddie is gone for a while, ran out the door and came back five minutes later with something to fill in. In the state he’s in, he simply does what he’s told. 

Then, he is once more dragged by Eddie, and he hates how much he’s enjoying feeling Eddie’s fingers wrapping his wrist. One moment he’s stumbling over his feet, and the next he’s standing before the tallest drag queen he’s ever seen —not that he has seen many—.

He pulls out his phone again and starts recording an instagram story, pointing it at Eddie. They're both laughing their asses off. Richie turns the phone around and does a thumbs up gesture right before ending the video and uploading it.

The drag queen, that introduces herself as Annie Hole, clears her throat in a useless attempt to catch their attention.

“Gentlemen,” she says, placing a hand on Eddie's shoulder, her endless nails scratching slightly at the fabric of the shirt, “if I could have your attention”.

They can't stop laughing. Richie's so nervous it's like he's getting drunker by the minute. And Eddie is so close he can feel his body heat. Or maybe it's the jacket. He thinks if suddenly a fire started in this chapel his jacket would probably an accelerator. He makes a note to himself of not telling Eddie about it. He’d freak out.

Before he can stop himself he moves and sets his arm around Eddie's shoulders. He can't come up with any witty remarks. The situation is too surreal.

“Dearly beloved,” she says once she has their attention. The old man, whose name ended up being Robert, sits behind them, “we are gathered here tonight to join these two men in hole-y,” and winks at them, “matrimony”.

Richie cackles, like the child he is, and is surprised to find Eddie giggling as well.

“It is the intent that your marriage will be for life and that only death,” she leans forward, hand covering half her face, and whispers “ _or the Trump administration_ can separate you”

Having him pressed against his body, Eddie feels Richie stiffen. He looks up at him and grins reassuringly. It's all it takes to make him loosen up.

Eddie's attention is snatched back from him when Annie speaks, “Edward”.

“Eddie” he interjects.

So she starts again, “Eddie, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, and keep him, in sickness and in health, whether he's a top or a bottom, and even if he behaves like a raging bitch because you misplaced the remote control _again_ , so long as you both shall live?”

“He'd be the one misplacing things” he says, but nods “I do”.

Annie Hole then proceeds to repeat those same words, but this time they're aimed at Richie. When she refers to him as Richard, he's not able to correct her himself, instead it's Eddie who cuts her off and asks her to call him Richie. “ _Is that a kink I don't know of?_ ” she had asked.

And she gets to the part where he's supposed to say ‘ _I do’_.

Richie laughs to himself, looking down, like this is all a fever dream. Then looks at Eddie, who's still under his arm. "Your mom would love this”, he cackles right after the comment.

Eddie holds his gaze, “Fuck my mom”

And Richie’s heart is about to burst, “Fuck yeah, I do, man".

Annie Hole smiles widely, putting her hands together, “Do you have rings to present as a symbolic confirmation of your promise to each other?”

They looked at each other. “We forgot the fucking rings” Eddie laughs.

“It's alright,” Annie says, “you don't need them”. Then mutters, “I just hope you came better prepared for later tonight”.

Richie chokes on his saliva, but that doesn't stop her from resuming the ceremony. “By the authority committed unto me, I pronounce you husband and husband, according to the law of the State of Nevada”.

Then the briefest pause before she says, “You may now seal your promise with a kiss”

There's no time for Richie to react, he's pulling out his phone to record another story for his instagram, and just as he hits recording, Eddie grabs him by the lapels of his Elvis jacket and pecks him on the lips. When he pulls apart, Richie's face can only be described as dumbstruck, mouth hanging open like a gaping fish and eyelids blinking way more than strictly necessary.

Richie's finger, which is still pressing onto the recording button, lets go. Eddie takes the phone away from his hands and watches the recording on loop, cackling as he turns the phone to show Annie. 

Just when Richie thinks he's getting his phone back, Eddie takes a last look at the lit screen before hitting send, “Oops”.


	2. Habits of my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: we completely ignored actual bureaucracy for the sake of the plot.
> 
> This chapter is way longer than we intended it to be so...Enjoy!

Sharing an elevator ride with the man you've been in love with for 27 years while dealing with the worst hangover and a pounding headache, oddly resembles the awkwardness of the walk of shame after a one night stand. Richie hasn't had many of those. One night stands, that is. Hangovers he's had plenty, although this one outdoes them all-- by far. 

They don't talk in their way down, neither of them feels like it. Eddie has his eyes shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in a useless attempt to ease the sharp, drilling pain behind his eyes.

They had barely greeted each other with a grunt the moment they met outside their respective rooms. 

They find the dinning hall soon enough and begin looking for their friends before picking anything from the buffet. And they find them because Stan and Ben are sitting at a big rounded table. Mike and Bill are probably getting some food.

Ben's head is directly on the table. Probably fighting for survival against the hangover.

Stan is reading a newspaper, fresh as a lettuce. Richie doesn't even want to ask how.

As soon as they get to the table and begin to sit down, Richie sees Mike and Bill approaching them with their food and a tired expression that turns mischievous the moment their eyes lock from the distance.

“Hey, you guys showed up!” Mike says.

Both Richie and Eddie frown in confusion.

“Wuh-wuh-we thought you’d eloped tuh-together” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie asks as the four of them walk to the table.

Ignoring Eddie's question, Mike sets his plate and sits “So… had fun last night?”

Ben greets them with a nod, when Stan looks up from the newspaper his face is indecipherable.

“Are you fucking with us?” Richie asks “You left! That's not cool guys!”

“We left? We didn't leave!” Mike says back, but he doesn't look angry at all “You're the ones who didn't come back”

“Seems y-y-you had better plans”

Eddie scrunches up his nose, lips pressed. “The fuck we left, we came back to the booth and it was fucking empty”

“No, it wasn't” interjects Ben, who doesn't seem capable of keeping his eyes open “We waited for nearly an hour,” he says, “or so they told me”.

“So what? We're fucking blind? We came back to booth number 6 and there was no one there”

Then, Stan speaks for the first time, “Number 9”

Eddie “What?” 

“Our booth, it was number 9”

And at the same time that Eddie says, “No, it was number 6”, Richie lets out an “ _Oh_ ”.

Eddie grabs Bill's cup of coffee and, while the latter protests weakly, Stan lowers the paper and leans towards Richie. "You look tired"

Richie frowns briefly. "Yeah, this little shit kept me up all night. I got 3 hours of sleep at most."

Stan puts the paper down and bites on his toast. "I really didn't need the details"

Richie is looking around. The dining room is huge. And most people look hangover.

“Is there anything you want to tell us?” Mike asks, out of the blue.

“About what?” Eddie says, after having a bite at Bill’s toast and ignoring him when he puts up his arms.

Mike just looks at him with a knowing smile.

“Will you stop being so fucking cryptic?” Eddie barks.

Amusement takes over his face and Eddie stands up, exasperated, “You know what? I don't care, I'm getting some breakfast” 

“I don't think he remembers” Mike says, after Eddie's left the table and gone for some food.

Richie, who has his head between his hands, eyes closed in a useless attempt to ease the sharp, drilling pain behind his eyes, intervenes, “Remember what?” 

Bill and Mike exchange looks.

"Richie, do you have your phone with you?" Stan asks softly but there's amusement in his tone.

Richie pulls it out of his jeans. "I probably turned it off last night. It wouldn't stop buzzing on the bedside table... why?"

"Turn it on"

As soon as he does, hundreds of notifications show up from his instagram.

Bev called him 10 times. He checks her convo and finds multiple ' _??????_ ', ' _!!!!_ ' and ' _Richie, pick up the phone_ ' messages. "Wha-?"

Richie feels his heart race, what the fuck did he do last night that got such a huge response? He's scared to check instagram, since it seems to be the source of the madness.

He finally gives in and checks. Thousands of messages in response to his stories. "I made a fool of myself somehow, I just know it." Richie mutters.

Then they start playing the stories. And at first everything seems normal. Embarrassing, but normal. Until it isn't. And Eddie and him are getting married and they look so drunk off his asses it's a miracle they managed to get back to the hotel and find their rooms.

Richie feels like the air being sucked out of his lungs; it gets worse when he sees the moment Eddie grabs him by the lapels of his shirt and pecks him on the lips and Richie hates how obvious his reaction to the kiss is. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, he wants to get up, walk away and hide under the blankets to never come out again. But that's not what he does, he puts on the façade because show must go on.

He cackles. So hard his throat aches. "Okay, yeah, I've never been _this_ drunk. Looks like we had a lot of fun. But guys, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

It's Bill who talks next. "I-I-I don't think it's that easy, Rich."

"What do you mean?" Richie points weakly at Eddie, who's waiting to pick a cup a few meters away from them. "He can drink some mouthwash and ready to go."

Mike and Bill share a look. But it's Stan who leans closer to Richie and says as gently as he can. "You two got married last night."

Richie snorts. "Uh, yeah, but it doesn't count, because it's Las Vegas, it's not real."

Then there's silence.

Stan clears his throat. "It is real"

Richie looks at him in the eye. "No, it isn't"

"Richie. It is."

Richie stares at him for so long he's sure a family in a near table had enough time to finish their breakfast. "No fucking way"

Mike, leans forward on the table. "I'm not sure but... is it legal if Eddie's married? They didn't ask about that?"

"I can't remember shit, man, I don't know!" Richie is panicking, he feels like throwing up.

Stan picks up the paper again and pretends to read it, as they see Eddie approaching their table again. "Maybe Eddie knows..."

“Know what?”

“Can you get married if you're still married?” Mike asks, and Eddie frowns, not quite understanding where the question is coming from.

“Hmm no, that'd be bigamy, right?” he says “and it's illegal. I mean, I think you can, but it'd be a felony”

Stan eyes Mike but says nothing. Ben, who has just recently come back from the dead, sits up straight and catches Eddie’s eyes, “Bev is going to kill both of you if you can't come to the wedding because you're arrested.”

Eddie scowls, “What are y-- Is anyone going to tell what the fuck is going on?”

Bill takes Richie's phone from the table and passes it over to Eddie, “Y-y-you may wanna see this”

Stil frowning, Eddie accepts it, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Check Richie's instagram stories”. Mike says “Sound on for full experience”.

So he does, he sees them all, one after the other. Every set of eyes on table is set on him.

“What the fuc-” Eddie mumbles, then his eyes widen, more than ever before, and he is left speechless when his past self grabs at Richie's lapels and pecks him on the lips. 

He's filled with something resembling to panic, “Why did you let me drink so much?! Fuck, I don't remember any of this happening-- what-- what the fuck are we gonna do?”

Bits and pieces from the night before start coming back to him, probably triggered by the stories Richie uploaded to his instagram account. 

“Let's not pa-panic yet, d-d-do you remember signing anything? F-f-filling any paperwork?”

And fuck, yes, he fucking remembers.

“Yes, I--” but he can't make a full sentence, “ _Fuck_ ”

“And did no one ask any of you if you were already married?” Ben cuts in.

“Huh?” Eddie tries, dumbfounded, “I mean, yes-- yes, I think so”

“I’d like to see how you're going to explain this to Myra” Stan says, much less focused on the paper than he appears to be.

“What?” and there's the frowning again.

“Myra” he repeats, “Y’know, your wife?”

_Oh._

“Oh, fuck, yeah-- about that…”

Richie, who has had his head buried in his hands up until now, raises his head and looks up.

Eddie averts his gaze, unable to hold their stares. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to find the words, “I’m not-- I’m not married… anymore?” 

“Are you asking _us_?” Stan says.

“No, shit-- fuck, no, I'm telling you-- I'm divorced”

Richie's eyes get all wild, “You’re _what_ now?”

“I'm divorced, I'm fucking divorced, okay? Can we not make a fuss about it?”

“So, this” Mike says, gesturing between Richie and Eddie, “is legal. You're actually married and no one is getting arrested.”

“I guess th-that’s good news”, although he seems to be thinking of saying something else entirely. 

“How long?” Ben asks, as if prompted by Bill, and Eddie immediately looks at him.

“How long what?”

“How long since you got divorced?”

Eddie hesitates, unsure whether telling the truth will make him sound like an asshole, but he goes for it anyway. “It'll be four months next week”.

“And you're telling us this now?!” Mike asks, wide-eyed in shock.

Eddie doesn't reply.

Stan sets the paper down on the table and crosses his arms in front of his body, “and you're only telling us because you got plastered and accidentally married Richie”

Richie feels like the air is escaping his lungs and there's nothing he can do about it. "I don't feel so good. I need... I need some air. Be right back." Richie stands up as fast as it's humanly possible. "Stan, a word?"

Stan follows him walking fast.

They find the exit and Richie pukes his guts out the moment he steps out of the building.

"Shit", escapes Stan's lips. "You alright?"

"I'm just peachy" Richie replies spitting to get rid of the acid taste. "Fuck, man, I'm fucked. I'm so fucked."

"I still can't get over the fact that you thought getting married here ' _didn't count_ '"

Richie straightens himself. "Not now." He turns to Stan. "NOT. NOW."

“I'm sorry, man, it's just-- so funny”, but Richie doesn't say anything, and Stan lets out a sigh, “Richie..."

Richie eyes him again.

“I get it, okay?” he admits, reluctantly, "I get why you're freaking out"

"No-- You really don't. You can't. It's just so--" he makes a frustrated sound, like a suffocated scream into the palms of his hands.

"Richie, look at me"

Richie breathes in and does as he's told, because Stan has that calming effect.

"I get it," then takes a step forward, "It's okay, Rich. I _know_ "

Richie swallows the lump in his throat and his hands are clammy. "What-- what do you mean?"

Stan breathes out, kind of exasperated, but a sly smile is forming on his lips when he speaks "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

Richie looks around and then sets his eyes on him again. Of course he knows. Of _fucking_ course. "Jeeeesus... I'm gonna have to have a little chat with Bev, because what the fuck, man"

He frowns in confusion, "What? No, Bev didn't tell me. I figured it out, I-- I've watched too many hours of bird documentaries to not recognize a mating ritual when I see one"

Richie snorts but he feels like crying. "I've always-- shit, man, it's been going on for so long, man. I forgot about it. I fucking forgot about it and it fucked me up. _Nothing_ worked for me and I didn't even know why and the moment Mike called it was like something snapped in my brain and--"

Stan gets closer, placing a hand on his forearm and softly moving it upwards until it reaches his upper-arm. “Shit, Rich… I'm so sorry. It's must've been shit. But you know now, and it's okay. _It's okay._ "

Richie shakes his head. "No, it's not. I'm still stuck. I haven't even come out. But apparently Bev always knew and she told Ben... and turns out you knew too. And, well, you all seem... fine with it. Wish I had known back then." He sighs. "Somehow I doubt it would've made a difference. Derry was still Derry, Bowers was there..." His thoughts drift and he falls silent for a moment, more calm. "I was never that obvious! I wasn't, was I?"

Rubbing his stubble, Stan considers his words, “I mean… It's not like it matters now, you’re not-- none of us is coming back there. Fuck that place, and fuck Bowers.” Then meets his eyes. “You're not stuck, Richie. You know who you are, and you don't have to go telling everyone if you don't want to but please-- please know that I'm here, okay? I'm here, and I’m sure the rest of the guys will be here for you too when you're ready.”

Richie has this sad look in his eyes. "What if he isn't okay with it?" Richie says, and hurries to add, "not about me and him, I wouldn't say anything about that. I don't want him to feel like he owes me anything or-- y'know."

“This is Eddie we're talking about. When has he ever felt like he owes anything to anyone?” then adds, “besides his mom and his wife-- ex-wife now… The point is, he won't, he'll be just Eddie, he'll still be giving you shit and calling you an asshole.”

Richie looks up at him. "What the fuck am I gonna do with this shit, man?"

Stan levels his gaze and slides his hand up to his neck, “We'll figure it out” and pulls Richie into a hug.

Richie hugs him back and it's one of those hugs that are just real. He feels safe. He just came out to one of his best friends and it felt natural, it didn't feel staged, he had nothing prepared. It felt normal. That's how he wants to feel. And they stay like that for a moment, because even like this he still feels like shit.

He doesn't know what to do, what Eddie might be thinking or why it all happened. It feels like a cruel joke. As if Pennywise hadn't been killed and he still was floating down there, blinded by the deadlights. His soul forever tortured by a fucking alien.

Just seconds later, Eddie comes out through the door and when he does, Stan is still holding Richie tightly. Eddie freezes at the sight, stomach suddenly turning for no good reason. It’s so personal, so intimate-- how Stan has his arms wrapped around Richie, stroking his back in a comforting way, how Richie lets himself be held, having to bend his legs slightly to fit into Stan’s embrace. His brain is sending him mixed messages. He wants to turn around and go back to the dining hall, he wants to stay and hold Richie just like that. 

That's when Stan notices him, pulls apart from Richie and clears his throat, “Eddie”.

Richie swiftly turns around, straightening as he sees him and then immediately averting his gaze. Eddie doesn't know what the fuck is going on. And then again, his brain does the thing. _I don't want to know, I need to know._

“Sorry, I--” he feels like an intruder in this moment, like he walked in into something he wasn't supposed to see. “Just wanted to tell you that we figured out how to get an annulment for the-” he vaguely gestures with his hand, “y’know”

Richie looks at him then, after gathering as much courage as is left in him. "Let's do it then, Eduardo!"

***

The annulment process turns out to be less of a pain in the ass than they’d have originally thought, but it’s still weird. The woman at the desk looks at them judgmentally and it seems like she’s used to dealing with situations like this way too often. They fill in and sign some paperwork and just like that, they’re free. 

Right before they walk out of the office, Stan, who is standing outside, sticks in his head and asks the woman whether this was the shortest marriage she’d dealt with. 

She shakes her head no in response, “Record is in 30 minutes”.

“You owe me 20 bucks ” Mike says besides him.

Stan grunts as he turns around and heads for the door.

“I told you there was no way this was her fastest annulment!” Mike says, smiling proudly.

***

Ben insists that they get a move on. Him and Bev have been living in LA, where the wedding is supposed to take place, and they should arrive today for the rehearsal dinner. Bill, Mike and Stan are taking Bill's car, which means Ben and Richie are travelling alone again.

Ben arches an eyebrow. "You're coming with us then?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind" Eddie replies.

Richie smirks and Eddie knows, just knows, some annoying comment is coming so he braces himself for it.

"4 hours in a car with me, no escape possible. Eds, you talk a lot of shit but at the end of the day..."

Eddie feels his face heat up. "At the end of the day _what_ , asshole?!" He snaps.

Ben makes a face and gets in the car to start it. Richie is going to get in the passenger's' seat but Eddie stops him. "Hey, I need that seat, I get dizzy otherwise."

"But the backseat is so boring, Eds." Richie pouts.

Eddie purses his lips. “Well, tough luck. I’m calling shotgun”

They lock eyes and it's like there's some kind of silent pathetic battle between them until Ben shouts. "Girls, you're both pretty, now get in the car, we gotta go." And Richie gets in the backseat.

The first half an hour passes by uneventful. Ben turns on the radio, they listen to some tunes and everything is quiet. Oddly quiet. Then, Ben asks where they want to stop for lunch and things go south very quickly.

Eddie says italian, Richie says mexican. Eddie says he can't eat mexican food because spicy food doesn't sit well with him. Richie answers him in one of his silly voices and calls him a ‘dainty eater’, which Eddie finds terribly offensive, so he tells him to shut the fuck up. Richie doesn't. And they keep at it, non-stop, until Ben grows tired of the endless bickering and stops the car in the first rest area he can find.

With both hands still on the wheel, he turns to look at Eddie. “Move to the backseat”

“What? No, I get dizzy” he says back, frowning slightly.

“I don't care” and he sounds assertive for the first time in his life. “If you're going to keep bickering, I'd prefer you both are in the back so I can turn up the music and ignore you”

Shocked by his sudden outburst (and this counts as an outburst for Ben Hanscom), Eddie gets out of the car and gets in the backseat, forcing Richie to scoot over and getting a ‘ _You could've gotten in through the other door_ ’ in return.

They end up stopping at a burger place for lunch and return to their assigned seats when they go back to the car. Ben doesn't need to turn up the music because Richie and Eddie don't fight again. 

Richie stares out the window, with his elbow resting on the window frame and his hand propping up his head. After struggling to keep his eyes open through heavy lids for a while, Eddie gives in and lets himself drift off, unconsciously leaning on Richie until his side is pressed against his and his head is resting on his shoulder. 

When that happens, Richie angles his head so he can look at him. He can see little more than the top of his head, but he breathes in and Eddie's scent invades him. Richie doesn't know how he manages to smell so fucking good after last night, but he doesn't care. Eddie's chest rises up and down as he breathes. It’s unbelievably peaceful, and Richie can't help but think how lucky he is to just have this. 

He looks up at the rearview mirror, where Ben’s eyes meet him with sympathy, and then drops his gaze, sinks in his seat and leans into the touch.

***

They arrived at Los Angeles a couple of hours ahead of time, which gave Richie the chance to stop by his place and take a shower before heading to the hotel where Bev will be waiting for them. 

The hotel ballroom where the rehearsal dinner takes place is fancier than Richie had anticipated. He shifts uncomfortably in his rental suit, feeling awfully out of place. 

Bev materializes by his side, wrapping her hand around his upper-arm, “we need to talk” she mutters, her smile doesn't falter when guests pass her by.

She had been trying to get a hold of Richie for a while now, signaling for the door and mouthing at him something he had not figured out. It’s not that he doesn't want to talk to Bev, it's just that he wants to delay it as much as possible. 

But time's up, and they're having this conversation now because Bev is dragging him into the corridors that lead to the toilets.

Bev's about to open her mouth when Richie stops her. "Don't. Don't say it. It's-- it's over. We were drunk and he thought it'd be fun so we kind of got married, which in retrospective isn't as funny as it was at that moment, but yeah, and-- well, we got an annulment this morning"

He sees Bev's face fall.

"We didn't even do it in record time, apparently the mark is 20-30 minutes and we waited more than 3 hours so, we weren't that special to the lovely woman who-"

"Richie" she says, and Richie just stops talking. "Richie, honey, I'm so sorry, I thought--"

He lowers his eyes and focuses on the white tiles. "Like I said, please don't. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. It's fine." When he looks up again, Bev's eyes are still on his and he just can't lie to her. "I mean, it's not, I feel awful and I kind of want to shoot myself in the eyeball but apart from that, it's ok." 

She grimaces but it's sad. He can't bring himself to be funny around someone he can be sincere with about his feelings. It just doesn't come to him. "I won't say I knew what I was getting myself into, because I was drunk off my ass and I can't remember shit... but I don't know. It'll go away, don't you think?"

Bev strokes his cheek softly. "It could've been worse... from what I saw in the stories it was all pretty innocent... even the peck"

"Bev, do you kick your opponents' head when they're already dead on the ground?" he says, but his tone is light.

She chuckles awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say. I was rooting for this, I love you both and--"

"But he's not like that." Richie cuts her before she can finish. "He was just drunk. He's a very touchy drunk, by the way. That... was a problem. But he's straight as an arrow, so." He shrugs like it's nothing. "Look, let's not make this weird, okay? I'm fine, you're..." he arches an eyebrow in a seductive manner and says as manly as possible, "extremely fine tonight, my darling."

"And tomorrow it's your big day, yours and Ben's-- oh by the way, he scolded Eddie and me earlier in the car, he has a dark side, watch out--" he adds.

And Bev makes a face.

***

They reunite with the others and take their seats. They had gone for round tables and, since Bev doesn’t have much family and Ben’s parents won’t be able to come until the next day, they all sit together. 

Bev seems thrilled to have them all in the same room again, and she won’t stop asking questions. She asks Mike about his new life in Florida. She asks Bill about his latest book. She even asks Stan about his bird fixation. It resembles too much to their conversation last night, when they were doing shots, before shit happened.

Eddie cuts her off, “What did you guys do after we lost you?” 

“So you admit it was your mistake” Mike grins, “That we didn’t leave”

Eddie purses his lips, “I admit there was a misunderstanding”

Ben brings his glass of water closer to his mouth and mutters, “Here we go” before taking a sip.

Richie is quiet during the exchange, engulfing the food like he hasn't eaten in days.

Fully knowing there is no way Eddie is going to admit he’s in the wrong, Bill tries to put an end to the conversation by stating that it was nobody’s fault.

“6 and 9 are very similar numbers after all” Stan says, with a smirk.

With a furrowed brow, Eddie points at Stan, and then at Bill, “I see what you’re doing”

“Wuh-wuh-we’re not doing anything” and puts his hands up.

"Okay," he finally says "sure, but it was not--" then points with his fork, "my fault"

"Of course it wasn't" Mike says under his breath.

Bev claps her hands together, "Okay, boys, stop. Please. I don't care who's fault was, I just want to know what embarrassing, drunken things you guys did"

Stan clears his throat. "These two" he says, meaning Mike and Bill, "made a fool of themselves while your fiance was unconscious on a couch."

Bill shakes his head. Then Mike keeps talking but Richie isn't even listening anymore. 

Patty and Audra will arrive tomorrow and they won't be able to sit like tonight. Everything will be rearranged so everyone fits with their spouses. Eddie won't be bringing Myra, obviously.

He's staring at Eddie, who's just waiting for his cue to enter the conversation. Like he needs to talk or he'll collapse.

And fuck if that suit doesn't suit him. Richie shakes his head lightly, just to himself, and looks down at his plate. Most of his friends are married or going to be. Mike is single but that's understandable. And Eddie is divorced. 

People always hook up at weddings.

That sets an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

He can't keep doing this to himself. He needs to change the chip here or he'll lose his mind, and the rest of his life going after someone who's not even into men. He needs to be realistic.

“So, Eddie,” Bev interrupts Richie’s train of thought. It’s sort of pathetic the effect the sole mention of his name has on him. “When is Myra coming? Maybe you can all go together to the airport to pick them up” 

Eddie chokes on his water; he never told Bev he was not bringing anyone. Of course he didn’t, he didn’t tell anyone he had signed off the divorce papers a few months ago.

“Oh” Mike says, “Haven’t you heard?”

Bev cocks a brow, curious, then looks from Mike to Eddie, “What?”

Eddie sighs and sets his glass down, “Myra is not coming. We’re divorced”

She widens her eyes, “You’re divorced...” and her gaze betrays her, glancing briefly at Richie.

The clinking of silverware against glass interrupts Eddie when he’s about to elaborate. A slightly older woman stands a few feet away from them, raising a glass and waiting for everyone’s attention. Ben lets them know it’s her older cousin. She gives a toast to which Eddie doesn’t pay attention to.

After two hours of listening to toasts from relatives they don't know and hearing Richie nag Bill by saying “Cuh-cuh-come on, B-B-Bill, duh-don't you wanna mah-make a t-toast?”, the rehearsal dinner comes to an end. 

Last night really took a toll on them because they're all exhausted. Richie is thankful he doesn't have to drive home, because he honestly doesn't know if he would be able to keep his eyes open for that long; so it's great that they’re staying in the hotel. Bev and Ben had made reservations for the whole lot, knowing that Richie was the only one that already lived there in LA. 

They drag their feet to the elevator in silence. Mike, Bill and Stan get on the first one, but it only allows up to four people and Ben decides to take the next one.

Bev presses the buttons in the elevator for both their floors. Ben and her are heading up to the eighth floor, whereas Richie and Eddie’s rooms are in number four. 

None of them speaks during the ride, but Ben puts an arm around Bev’s shoulders, bringing her closer, and then kisses her on the top of her head. Meanwhile, Richie and Eddie stand still like two Sims waiting to be given an order.

With a sharp ring, the elevator announces they've reached the fourth floor, so they say their goodnights to Bev and Ben and step out. 

The hotel they've chosen is huge, and their rooms are on the other end of the corridor. A sudden sense of self-awareness invades Eddie; they hadn't been alone since the night before, they had barely talked tonight. The mere thought makes the situation awkward, and Eddie doesn't know how to deal with that, so he speaks, everytime he feels restless, uncomfortable, impatient, he talks until someone stops him. Talking makes his brain stop thinking.

“Are you alright?” he asks as they walk to their corresponding rooms.

Richie's steps come to a halt and turns to Eddie. "Yeah, man, sorry, I'm a bit tired. Still hangover and all." But even he knows that isn't enough. Eddie won't buy it. "I know things are weird now but hey, this is my first divorce, gimme a break, you've become quite proficient at this. Two divorces in less than a year. That has to be a record somewhere." He chuckles nervously and Eddie with him, even though he's clearly irritating the shit out of him. "We could go back and see if that impresses the lady at the counter"

“I don't know, she seemed like a very unimpressed lady” he jokes, but feels a knot in his stomach when he says what he really wants to say. “So you're fine?” he is so anxious about the answer that he just keeps talking, “I just-- I kinda freaked out when you left and asked Stan to come with you… You looked a bit on edge and when I-- when I found you, Stan was--” he purses his lips, considers what to say next, then dismisses it and adds nothing.

"You mean the hug? You know how he is. Makes a big deal out of everything. He was trying to be comforting. As if he knew how to do that." He smiles at Eddie.

“Yeah, you're right” Eddie smiles back, but it's not convincing.

He needs to get it out of his chest, this guilt-- it’s consuming him, thinking that he made things so uncomfortable between them because he can't fucking handle alcohol like a grown ass man. He worries at his lip, uneasy.

“I'm sorry”, he ends up saying.

Richie frowns, “What for?”

“What for?!” Eddie repeats, throwing his arms up, “I don't know… let me think…” he mimics a thinking expression. “Oh, yes! For getting fucking plastered, dragging you along my drunken madness and forcing you to marry me!” He blurts, “Do you think it's a good enough reason to apologize?! I fucking kissed you, man. I made things weird” then pinches the bridge of his nose, “I'm so sorry, man”

Richie has a second to let panic take over his face and then goes back to normal. Because 27 years of emotional repression do that to you. But he can tell Eddie's worried.

"Never thought I'd see the day when Eddie Spaghetti would apologize to _me_. Apology accepted, dickhead." Richie stares at him with a soft smile on his face and suddenly the distance between them feels like a vice, so he goes and hugs him, trying to mimic Stan's hug. But it's awkward. They're both tense.

Eddie has never felt as stiff as he does now. The hug only last a few seconds, and when they pull apart they don't look at each other. Eddie clears his throat, and resumes walking. Richie follows. 

They get to Eddie's room first, and he pulls out the key to his room and swipes it to unlock the door. With his hand on the knob, he turns his head to look at Richie, “So... we're okay?”

"Yeah, I am. Are you?"

"Yeah," he nods a couple of times, "I am"

Richie smiles then. "Alright, then. Good night, buddy." He says, and walks away.

"Good night, Rich"

***

They’re all dressed up and ready. All but Richie, that had disappeared after breakfast and hadn't come back since. 

Richie hadn't lied when he said he was okay last night. During breakfast he had been cracking jokes and pushing Eddie's buttons like he always did. It was easing, knowing he hadn't completely fucked up his friendship and that things were going back to normal. 

Ben, who is pacing the chapel up and down making sure everything is in place, notices Richie is not there with them yet. 

“Where's Richie?” he asks with wide eyes, after sprinting towards them.

They all shrug in unison. 

Ben checks his watch, “The ceremony starts in 20 minutes” then looks around, as if looking for someone “get. him. here. now”

Stan nods, “I'll go look for him”

“I'll go with you” Eddie says.

It doesn't take them more than five minutes to find him. It's not like he was hiding. He was simply turning and twisting in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection with a pout of uncertainty. He jerks up when the door swings open. 

“Oh, thank god, you're here” Eddie sighs in relief. 

Almost at the same time, Stan grins teasingly, “What the hell are you wearing?”

Richie is fidgety, obviously not comfortable in the clothes he's wearing. 

Eddie takes in the suit after Stan’s comment. It's a burgundy two piece suit, with a plan white shirt under the blazer. There's a hint of suspenders when Richie scratches his head out of awkwardness. It's clearly from Bev’s latest collection and it's custom-tailored because it accentuates all the right parts. It's bold across the shoulders and it falls gently on his chest, not too tight, not too loose. 

The only thing that seems off is the tie; it's black with little burgundy details, but it's a mess. Certainly, Richie had never knotted a tie before, and Eddie can't help the impulse of getting it fixed. So he steps forward, and puts his hands on Richie's shirt collar, undoing the the knot and starting from scratch. 

“Oof, I know” Richie exhales in response to Stan, “I look ridiculous, don't I? This is not my colour--” and he won't stop moving, “I--”

“No” Eddie interjects, “you look good. Shut up.”

"You just want me to go out there looking like a-- nuh-uh I can't say 'clown'. That's prolly bad luck..." Richie straightens himself as Eddie tries to place the tie correctly.

Stan gives Richie a wild look before saying, "Just be on time, Richie, for fuck's sake." And disappears through the door again, leaving them alone.

“Will you stop fucking moving? I'm trying to fix this, dickwad!”

Richie is looking everywhere but at him. They're far too close for his liking. Well, he'd rather be closer, but in other circumstances.

It reminds him of two days ago, when Eddie pulled him in and kissed him. And there we go again. He can't think like this. He has to move on, he's too old for juvenile crushes and undying unrequited love.

But as crowded as the wedding actually is, this room is silent. So silent he can't concentrate on anything that's not Eddie. _Eddie's breath, Eddie's movements, Eddie's warmth. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie._

' _I need therapy_ ', he concludes in his thoughts.

Eddie finishes knotting the tie, returning the collar of his shit to its original position. His fingers brushed slightly at Richie's chest when runs a hand down the tie to smooth it out. Then he pulls back only just, inspecting his work, and nods approvingly, patting him on the chest. “That's better”

His hand lingers there for longer than expected.

' _Not for my heart_ ' Richie thinks.

"I should probably get going if I wanna avoid being murdered by Bev" Richie pats Eddie's hand on his chest and leaves, with Eddie following after him a couple seconds later.

From where Eddie is sitting, Richie looks a bit choked up while he walks Bev to the altar but quickly pulls himself together when he sees Ben tear up at Bev's sight. Stan and Eddie look him from afar, making fun of poor Ben and having the priest look sideways at him in disapproval. 

“Is he able to behave for five fucking minutes?” Eddie says through gritted teeth.

Stan angles his head his way, “You should know the answer to that question is always no” 

Richie catches their eye as if his radar picked up they were talking about him and Eddie looks daggers at him, but he simply smiles widely and winks at them in return. ‘ _Did this motherfucker just wink at me? Why would he do that?_ ’ then remembers Stan is sitting right besides him, and ‘ _wait… was he winking at Stan?’_. The thought makes him feel strangely ill at ease, but he ignores the feeling and rolls his eyes at Richie.

It's a beautiful ceremony, really. It's got nothing to do with his and Myra’s. He had never looked at her the way Ben is looking at Bev. It's in that moment, the moment when he sees the manifestation of true love, that he regrets having wasted so much time in loveless marriage. He wonders why it took him so long, why it took a call from Mike and coming back to his childhood to make him wake the fuck up from the true nightmare that waited for him back in New York. But it's okay now, it's over and done with. He sits in the first row and watches them both say I do. And he smiles, because he knows, right in that moment, that they're made for each other.

***

The wedding reception takes place in the same ballroom the rehearsal dinner was held. Bev and Ben sit in a different table tonight, this time accompanied by Ben's parents and closest relatives, but they spend so much time walking around and chatting with the guests that it really doesn't matter where they're sitting.

The situation at Richie's table is not ideal. It's a round table again, same people capacity, only Ben and Bev have been replaced by Patty and Audra. They are nice, really nice actually, but this is the first time they meet the rest of the losers and it's a bit awkward. 

That’s not the worst part, though. No. The worst of it all has it source in the spot that was reserved for Myra, right besides Eddie, that is now being occupied by a middle-aged woman that they don't know and no one invited to the table.

"So, Ben told me you're a risk analyst? I have a master in Business Administration."

That's when Richie knows it's over for him. They're meant to be. She's attractive enough. Blonde, short, thin. She has a beautiful smile. ' _It doesn't look natural_ ' he thinks. Not that it matters.

“Really?” and he sounds honestly excited. “I did that master after graduating from Finance”

Richie is playing around with the napkin now. He thinks that if he got around 20 of them and tied them together, he could hang himself from the ceiling. 

Stan, who's sitting at his left, places a hand on his and leans in to whisper. "What did that napkin do?"

"It's too straight for my taste" Richie mutters.

Stan chokes on his own saliva when he snorts. "Rich, come on"

Richie looks up to Eddie's new acquaintance. "Did you know this handsome man used to run around in red tight shorts when he was a kid?"

Eddie's head jolted to Richie, eyebrows all the way to his hairline and cheeks flushing, "Richie!" then turns his head to look at her, still adorably embarrassed, "I'm sorry, he's an asshole. I don't know why he said that"

She chuckles. "It's fine, I remember wearing the lower part of a bikini on my head when I was 10. Needless to say, I was wearing another piece to cover myself, but it made an interesting beanie."

Eddie chuckles at that and Richie downs the rest of his wine.

They finish dinner and Richie can feel Stan, Mike and Bill's eyes on him the whole time. Like they know. Which is not the case. But it feels like they do. Or maybe he's just being an asshole and making a fool of himself, yet again. He sighs and gets up. "I'm going for a smoke, anyone?" But none of his friends do, so he leaves leaves through one of the glass doors that lead to the garden.

He stays close to the entrance so they know where he is, anyway.

About 10 minutes later, Richie is more calm. He really should know better. He's had this conversation with himself over and over for the past months. And, had he not forgotten about the Losers, he would’ve had it for the past 27 years. Or maybe he would've grown a pair and told him once and for all. 

And, at the moment, rejection doesn't sound as bad as eternal pining. It would be healthier. But he just can't. Perhaps it's not just about Eddie but about comfort zone. He's always been in love with him, it's part of who he is and he's sure it's not going anywhere. But he can't force Eddie to love him. 

Maybe if he tried to date someone else for real, his feelings for Eddie would diminish or turn into just... platonic affection. Something less painful.

Stan comes looking for him and he looks tired. "What was that tantrum from earlier?"

Richie takes a drag on his cig. "I don't know. Maybe he's trying to figure out how many people he can divorce in the least amount of time?"

"Rich" Stan warns, and hits him on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Joking. Joking. You know me, I'm uncomfortable, I joke. That's Richie Tozier for you, man." He drops the spent cig and steps on it.

Stan is giving him the sad eyes. "You need to stop this. I'm worried about you."

"You're gonna go soft on me now, Urine?"

"If that's what it takes for you to stop being a child, yes."

"Fine, fine. I'm fine." 

Stan pats his arm reassuringly. "I didn't know you smoke"

Richie shrugs. "Only when I'm nervous"

"I hope you ran out of those because Bev was looking for you, you gotta make the toast."

Richie starts searching his pockets, "Right, I had it... Right... Here?" to no avail. "Oh shit. I don't know where it is. I think I lost it."

"I don't need this kind of negativity in my life, you tell Bev. I'm going to find my wife. I'll have you on my prayers." And with that, he disappears back into the building.

*** 

The nameless woman turns out to be called _Abigail_ and she seems to be a very interesting person in Eddie's opinion, but maybe, just maybe, she's a little bit too forward. 

After Richie left, no one had filled the _annoying-the-new-girl_ spot and there was nothing that stood in her way, she had move on to more personal questions. He'd told her about his ex-wife, about his job and that was about it, there was little more to Eddie's life. Not that she seemed to mind, she had looked overly enthusiastic at anything Eddie said. 

Now it was starting to be a bit much for Eddie. She had rested her hand on Eddie's knee after laughing at something he'd say and it's still there. Unmoving (thank god) but hot against the fabric. He wants to say: ‘ _Don't touch me, I don't know you, do not fucking touch me_ ’, but that wouldn't be polite and Eddie is very polite. So he tries to take it off his mind.

“I don't think I asked you” he says, after sipping at his glass (no alcohol tonight, thank you very much). “How do you know Ben?”

Her eyes go wide, and she smiles in excitement, “Oh yeah! I've been working with his company for years now, he r--”

But her words are cut off by Ben, who places a hand on Eddie's shoulder and makes him jump on his seat.

“Where's Richie? He has to give the toast”

“Stan went looking for him after Bev threatened to cut off his balls” he says non-chanantly, and he spots Richie coming in through the door.

Pointing his head in his direction, he says, “There he is”

Ben lets out a breath in relief and pats Eddie's shoulder, looking at Abigail and then at him and winking at him right after saying, “Have fun”

***

When Richie enters the room again, they've moved a few tables so he has room to pace around, something he's grateful for. 

He picks up a glass of champagne and a little dessert spoon to make the toasting call.

"Ladies and gentlemen. And everything in between. I believe a toast is in order." Bev and Ben are sitting at the table to his right, smiling up at him. "Don't smile too wide, I've lost the speech I wrote"

There are so many people are muttering under their breath, Eddie can't hear Bev's reply but it goes along the lines of ‘ _I'll kill you_ ’. She is still smiling, though.

"Don't you worry your pretty head. I have it all covered. I'll speak from the heart."

"Oh no" Eddie hears Stan say.

Then Richie starts. “You know, I can’t believe Bev asked me to do this. Because she knows how I am, so she should've known I was gonna fuck this up. Which also means now I can just say whatever. So I’m gonna go with that.” Bev’s smiling so big at him that Richie feels like he might cry.

“It is kinda weird, because I’ve known Ben and Bev forever, and yet not really. We went 27 years without talking to each other and that’s crazy because look at him, he’s so hot, I could’ve hit that at some point.” The crowd laughs and it feels comforting. He’s joking but there’s something bittersweet to it, he’s been hiding for so long. This feels normal. He wishes it was that easy.

“But seriously, I can’t think of anyone better for Bev than Ben. Bill, sorry, man, but you had your chance and you blew it, fuck off… I love you, Bill.” He laughs and everyone with him, even Bill. Even Eddie.

“Now, you see, the idea of marriage is so weird to me because you gotta date first. And dating sucks." Richie glances at Eddie. "If you like dating, just… get outta here, man… You gotta sit across from someone you don’t even know, at a restaurant you can’t care less about… And you say stuff —especially as a guy—, you say stuff that you’d never say, ever in real life, like… ‘wow’. When was the last time you said ‘wow’ as a guy, for real?”

He pauses. “Girls have the power, right away, you know it. They’re sitting on it. They’re like:” and he starts singing with an r&b rhythm, “’you better play your cards right, to get some booty…’” And he's looking at Eddie and his new friend. Eddie makes this face he makes when he wants the earth to swallow him.

The audience seems to like him so far. “I feel like that’s how it is in their heads, with their friends behind them doing the choirs.”

Stan is trying not to laugh from their table but Richie can’t resist. “Look at Stan, Stan the man. Nothing is more white than you holding a wine like that.” At that, Stan laughs. “Look at that laugh, that’s how you laugh if you’re white and successful.” He then imitates Stan’s laugh, exaggerating every mannerism posible and everyone laughs.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying, you gotta _date_. And I’ve been avoiding that for a reeeally long time, and this morning I saw myself in the mirror and I realised that I’m a guy, I’m a man in my 40s! I can’t pretend like I want something, now I have to know who I am and know what I want and it’s very hard! But to get there I gotta stop pretending about the smallest things, like for instance, don’t invite me to your party. There’ll be too many people who aren’t me, where’s the fun in that?” He pauses looking around. 

“But here I am, aren’t I?” He looks at Bev, and she hasn’t stopped smiling. Ben is next to him enjoying the show.

“Imagine all the things I had to pretend to want to do before I even came here. Number one: I had to get these two a gift. Imagine me, in my 40s, shopping for a couple also in their 40s. In like, a department store, like ‘ _woAH, YEah, Maybe they WANT THAT_ ’, man, that’s embarrassing. Then, number 2: I gotta wrap that gift. I’m not even doing the fake wrapping where you put it in a bag and you put toilet paper over it, y’know? The ‘ _fuck you_ ’ wrap. You didn’t wrap it, you covered it! Like when you’re in someone else’s house and you take a fat shit, and you can’t flush it down the pipe because it’s massive so you cover it with paper and hope it camouflages somehow?”

He hears Mike laugh so hard he can’t help himself. “Man, black dudes are the best laughters, hands down, for real.”

Bill laughs at that one and claps like a seal. “That’s- that’s a white dude clapping at that, I don’t know why, that’s super weird”, Bill is still laughing, so he keeps going. “Let me explain it and then clap, dude. Thank you for laughing, though, I love when you smile because your teeth are so straight and white they were just offered positions in Trump’s cabinet.” He stifles a laugh too.

“As I was saying, black dudes laugh the best, and y’know why? When you tell a joke and a black dude laughs that hard you feel real good about yourself”, he can’t even finish the sentence without laughing a bit. “Because when black dudes laugh, they don’t just laugh, they relocate!” He then imitates Mike’s hysterical laugh while walking around the place. 

“Two days ago, I called Mike and I made him laugh so hard he drove to Las Vegas. Can you imagine?” He imitates Mike laughing again and mimics getting into a car, starting it and driving, without stopping laughing.

“Sorry, sorry, gotta foccus. So, here I am, in my 40s, seeing two of my best friends getting married and my mind goes back to a couple of weeks ago. I live in LA, and I was at this shitty bar. I met a girl in her late 20s. She seemed nice, she kept me company for the night and then I offered to take her home in my car because I’m the nicest person in the world. No ulterior motives. And shortly into the ride, she turns to me and says ‘ _y’know I have beer and coke back at my place_ ’. In my head, I was like ‘ _alright, play it cool, don’t let her see that you think that’s insane… and definitely don’t let her see that your first thought was soda_ ’”.

No matter how hard he tries, his eyes tend to shift to Eddie, who looks at him fondly, and it makes his heart beat faster.

“I had to say no. And then she went and said ‘ _why aren’t you trying to sleep with me?_ ’ Which was both sad and beautiful. Beautiful because I was really not trying to get into her knickers, and sad because those words came from her mouth. But it made me realise that I’m on a different place of my life now, y’know, ‘cause when I was in my 20s I was like ‘ _I gotta get laid_ ’ and now it’s ‘ _I gotta get home_ ’. Same urgency, different goal. But it feels weird to turn down sex on a silver platter.” He poses as a waiter. “Here’s that sex you ordered. 20 years ago. It’s finally ready.”

“And I have these weird old-man thoughts, Eddie might have more than me, though…” 

Eddie looks like he could stab him but Richie can tell he’s trying very hard not to smile openly, his mouth is a tight line and his eyes are sparkling even from where he’s sitting.

“Those thoughts like ‘ _oh, I think I still have that leftover pasta in the fridge, tonight was gonna be that night_ ’. Shot down by pasta. But I know that’s gonna be good, I already ate half of it.”

Everyone keeps laughing and it’s very comforting, as it usually is. “But that was adulthood hitting me in the face. And when I was younger I wondered what it would be like to be an adult. I associated it to many things, like getting married, starting a family… and it can be all those things for people like Ben and Bev, but for me it’s closer to turning down sex and cocaine on a Tuesday night.”

Ben is laughing harder now and Bev is holding him close, and he wishes he could have something like that, but he doesn’t dare to look at Eddie now, in fear he might be able to read his mind or his eyes. Instead he turns to everyone at the same time. It’s easier if he doesn’t focus on anyone in particular.

“But look at them, I look at that and I know it’s love. Y’know what love is? If I could distill love down into one moment it’d be this one, —and Ben, listen to me, this will happen so be ready to embrace it— Close your eyes and picture this in your head: You’re both in bed late at night and you’re telling her to move because not only she’s already stolen all the covers for herself, but she’s also so far into your side, your dick is flopped off the bed. Her side of the bed is so vast they shot Mad Max Fury Road there. Like, if you squint, you can see Tom Hardy on the front of a vehicle groaning.” Bev is laughing like a mad woman at this point. And Richie can’t help but laugh too.

“And even with this kind of shit, you’ll wake up to her and think ‘this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with’”. 

And how he wishes he could have what they do. It hurts, but he has to keep his cool persona for a bit longer before he can resume his drinking and get wasted. Not as wasted as the night in Las Vegas, but still.

“Man, do you know how… insane… that is? The fact that, for the past 27 years —where you didn’t see each other— you’ve been in love with him- I mean her?” he corrects himself so fast he hopes no one will dwell on it. “That’s crazy. But if that ain’t love, man, nothing is.”

Everyone applauds, even Eddie.

***

When the toast is over, Richie walks past Eddie without even looking at him. He seems driven, he has a goal in mind. 

Abigail resumes her talking, her asking questions, her touching, and Eddie feels very antsy. He glances back in the direction Richie took but can’t barely see anything from where he's sitting. 

“Ben told me you live in New York too” she is saying, “We should meet sometime”

But Eddie is just half listening to her words, he is too focused examining the room and looking for Richie. He looked… _off_. 

“I don't usually do this but--” she hands over a napkin with a number scribbled on it, “this is my room number”

Eddie would be freaking the fuck out if he were listening to any of what she's saying. He finally spots Richie, who is leaning on the bar and downing not one but… _two? three? four shots in a row. What in the name of--_

He gets up, interrupting whatever Abigail is saying, “It was nice meeting you” and he doesn't even look at her while he says it. He walks away before she gets a chance to respond.

He makes his way through the people that drink, and dance, and fucking stand on his way, and finally reaches the bar.

“What the hell are you doing, asshole?”

He is angry, but also worried. Downing four shots in the span of a minute is pretty fucking concerning. What is going on in Richie's mind is what he'd like to know.

"What does it look like, I'm making sure no one poisons the bride and groom. I have to taste everything." He replies.

“Oh, fuck off, Richie” he says, irritated. Richie's really trying his patience “Have you learned nothing from the other night?"

Richie sighs and his head hangs low, almost touching the bar. "Fuck it. I'm lonely. That's all."

Eddie blinks. Then blinks again. And then a couple more times.

“You're _lonely_..." he repeats. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Richie downs his last shot before Eddie can stop him, even though he tries. "Bev and Ben. Stan and Patty, Bill and Audra. You... and that woman." He clears his throat. "Time passes and everyone finds someone. It's what's expected. You find someone, you get married, you make babies, you pay their college tuition and then you die of cancer. That's the American dream. That's what everyone gets. But not me. I can't- live up to anyone's expectations."

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “I'm not-- We're not--” 

The words just won't come out. How difficult can it be to just say ‘ _I have no interest in Abigail_ ’. As doesn't seem able to, he settles for shaking his head off and leaning on the bar, mirroring Richie.

“I guess that's a good reason to get blind drunk”

He eyes the waiter and puts up his finger, signaling for him to pour one out for him as well.

"Make it two, Eds"

He asks for two, as per Richie's request. He's got a point, with the whole thing about what you're expected to do in life and shit. It scares Eddie to think that he had that, in a sense, and threw it out the window. 

But truth is, he hadn't had that really. He just had what it came with giving the impression of having that. He had had people's acceptance, he had had society's approval, but he hadn't had what Bev and Ben had, or what Bill and Audra had, or what Patty and Stan had. Eddie wanted that or he wanted nothing. 

The waiter slides the two shots in front of them. Eddie takes his and raises it, Richie follows right after.

“To being lonely fuckers” Eddie says.

Richie mouth curves into a smile. “To being lonely fuckers”

And they down the shots in one go.

With a grimace, Eddie sets the empty shot down, “You really want that, though?”

Richie looks at him. "Of course I do, I'm fucking 40, Eds. I just wanna lay on the couch watching shit with the love of my life. Why wouldn't I?"

“I never had you for that kind of guy, I don't know--” he is honestly surprised. 

Richie talking about being in a relationship, a serious one nonetheless, and saying things like ‘ _the love of my life_ ’. It's fucking surreal. 

“Have you ever-- I mean, do you even know the type of girl you're looking for?”

Richie swallows hard. He could say it. _Just say it. Just come out_. It'd be so easy. "I... don't have a type of women". His eyebrows are risen, like he's surprised by his own words, as coward as they are.

Eddie frowns. At this point, frowning is second nature to him. “What do you mean you don't have a type? Everyone has a type. And you-- you're looking to settle down. That's a pretty big deal”

Richie orders another two shots for them and they gulp them down. "Oh, everyone has a type? What's your type then? Wait, don't tell me--"

"If you say anything related to my deceased mother I will make you eat your tie" Eddie snaps before he can finish the sentence. And Richie smirks at him through heavy eyelids.

Richie grabs his tie to look at it. "I like the suit but this thing is hideous. Don't tell Bev."

Eddie pushes aside Richie's hand from the tie and replaces it with his own. He gives it a yank and pulls Richie closer, leaning over to examine it in detail. 

“Yeah, it looks fucking stupid”, he concludes. “You should take it off”

Eddie is trying to loosen it up. "It's too tight and I'm too drunk." Richie says, and the next moment Eddie's pulling it off. But when it reaches Richie's forehead it gets stuck. 

"I can't move it Rich, your forehead is just too big, bro" and he's laughing, which makes Richie laugh too as he orders another two shots. He can't get the damn tie off but at least he can move it to the sides, so eventually he manages to give himself a ' _Rambo_ ' look, which Eddie finds hilarious. And they drink again.

“Wait for Bev to see you dishonoring her suit like this” Eddie jokes, “She'll have you hung”

Richie makes a gesture of dismissal. “Naaaah, it'll be fine”

The alcohol is starting to put some color in Richie's cheeks. Before he starts sweating, Richie decides to take off his blazer, revealing the suspenders Eddie had forgotten about.

He picks one of them, slides his fingers up and down, then gives it a tug. He looks up at Richie with a teasing smile before he stretches the material and lets it go, slapping with it Richie's chest.

"Motherfucker!" Richie's hand goes straight to his nipple. "You stop that shit or I'll call your mom right now, Eduardo!"

“Stop what?” he says, with a pout of sheer innocence, “...this?” then tries to go for it again, but Richie's hand is quicker and stops him midway.

"You little turd, I will end you" he says between his teeth but there's no malice in it, and his hand is around Eddie's wrist for a moment before he let's go. He knows better than to give in his contact-seeking urges.

It's Eddie the one who orders another round of shots. He's already pretty drunk, but no so much he won't remember tomorrow. _Never again_ , he thinks. 

Shots arrive and they religiously chug them down.

“We're so lame” Eddie says after setting the glass down and ordering one more, “Look at us. We're forty--”

“You're forty-one”

“We're forty” he repeats, and shoots him a threatening gaze, “and we're here drinking by ourselves while our friends have fun and… do things with their lives or whatever”

"I bet Stan and Patty are already asleep in their room, it's like they've always been 84 or something" Richie chugs one of his shots down and looks around. "I haven't seen Ben and Bev in like 30 min. I bet you 20 bucks they're already at it."

Eddie widens his eyes, "What? No, they wouldn't-- Wait" then makes a face, "Bev totally would"

Richie smirks. "Yeah... Mike should try to get laid. He deserves it... Now that I... think about it, where's your... Uh, _woman_?"

"For the hundredth time, she is. Not. My. Woman. I don't even know her!"

"Why are you so defensive?" Richie asks innocently, but, _oh_ , how he loves that reaction. It makes him feel almost alive. "You could be getting laid right now and here you are getting drunk instead. With me of all people. That's just fucking sad, Eds." He laughs but it sounds slightly bitter.

“Why are you so obsessed with getting me laid?” Eddie asks in return, “Why aren't you more focused on getting _you_ laid?”

Richie snorts. "That's not going to happen..." He realises how that might rise questions he doesn't want to answer. "Not tonight, at least."

“What? No, why not? People always say weddings are the best place to find hookups” then pats him on the back. “Come on, I'll help ya, I'll be your wingman"

"Yeah, no, I'm really not interested, Edspaguetti"

“Okay, man” but the hand he used to pat his back is still there, resting against the fabric of his shirt, “Neither of us is getting laid tonight then”

Richie says nothing in response, and Eddie’s gaze travels to his nape, which is mostly covered by Richie's hair. Without thinking, his hand runs up his back and stops at that spot where Richie's hair meets skin. He then catches a strand of hair between his fingers. “You've never had it this long”

Richie's breath hitches. ' _It's not like that_ ' he tells himself, ' _he's just a touchy drunk. Stop thinking with your dick, this is your straight friend_ '. "Yeah, It's the Tozier look, half hobo half porn star, can't help it."

He should drop his hand, he really should. There's no reason for him to keep there, but it feels nice. “It suits you” he says, and raises his eyebrows only just, “but I'm afraid the porn star thing it's just wishful thinking”

Richie is drunker than Eddie. And he should've probably left for his room a while ago but he didn't, and that's why they're here.

"Wouldn't you like to know" he chuckles, and in doing so, Eddie's fingers get deeper into his curls. He's probably a bit sweaty, Eddie should be disgusted.

 _Would I?_ Eddie thinks, and it startles him. _What? What the fuck was that?_ _Richie’s silliness is getting in your head and you're too drunk for this_. So he takes his hand off Richie and uses it to order two more shots. Because that makes sense. _Sure_.

He takes the shot, and it doesn't taste as it did the first one. And because his drunken brain can't think before speaking, he blurts, “I'm living here, in LA” and braces himself for what's to come.

Richie turns to him like he just grew a second head. "You're _WHAT_?!"

Eddie shifts in his seat beside him.

"When were you gonna tell me? Why do you have so many secrets all of a sudden, what are you, FBI or some shit?! What the fuck, Eds!"

“It's not a secret, dickhead” he says back, and he hits him on the shoulder, “I just didn't want to say anything until it was a stable thing… I got the job two weeks ago”

Richie isn't sure why, maybe because he's drunk, maybe because it's Eddie, but he understands and let's it go. "Well, you can't escape me now, we're gonna have to hang out more often."

He surprises himself thinking, ‘ _Yes, please_ ’ and a sensation he can't quite place invades him at the prospect of meeting with Richie at a regular basis.

Eddie is now staring at him with those big brown doe eyes of his, and their eyes are locked. Something is happening and Richie can feel it, but he just can't put his finger on what it is exactly so he calls the barman, but he's just going to order a glass of water. He is not going to drink more for the night. He's learned his lesson. 

When he sees Richie call for the barman, he says, “you should stop drinking”

He doesn't say, but he's thinking about what happened last time they drank that much. He hopes Richie is on the same page.

"What are you scared of, Eds, the priest left hours ago!" he laughs.

Richie asks for a glass of water to Eddie's surprise, and downs about half of it.

“I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” and he takes Richie's glass, drinking the rest of the water. 

Richie follows his movements, open mouthed.

"Did you just-- who are you what have you done with my Eddie?!"

“What--?” then Richie gazes the glass, and Eddie realizes what he means. “That?” 

And he's right, old Eddie would have never done that. New Eddie, on the other hand, doesn't mind so much. There’s even a part of him that craves the intimacy of sharing with Richie.

“I think we're past that”

Richie chuckles drunkenly, his upper body mostly turned to him now. "Oh? What, one kiss and suddenly you don't mind my germs anymore? I'm flattered, Eds." He can be playful, playful is safe. He can deal with playful.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He didn't mean it like that, he wasn't even thinking about the kiss. He had already had his freaking out moment while going over Richie's stories yesterday. He wanted to leave that in the past, lock it up and throw away the key, so they could continue being friends without any weird stuff between them.

“Ha, ha, very funny” he says, faking a smile. “Your germs continue to disgust me and always will. I've just become more tolerant” he says, then lowers his head, “and less of a paranoid. Hopefully.”

Richie is thoughtful for a couple of seconds. He just can't take his eyes off of Eddie. He's grateful Eddie's oblivious as he is. "You've changed quite a lot, actually. You really divorced your mom." He can see Eddie pull a face but he keeps talking. "No, I mean, most people our age would just stick to what they have by now. Because being alone it's scary as fuck. But you went and did that, I think it's impressive... I don't know, man, I-- I'm proud of you."

Eddie feels overwhelmed by a sudden, unidentified emotion; his defenses are low and he blames the alcohol.

“Thanks, Rich, that’s-- that’s nice. I guess you’re not always a pain in the ass...” 

Eddie furrows his brow and points a finger at him, accusingly, “I would never say that sober, you’ve done this to me, asshole”

Richie smiles at him, as sincere and fondly as possible. ' _God, I love you_ ', he thinks.

“What's with the face?” but there's no real harshness, and smile is creeping into his mouth, “Stop looking at me like that!” but he doesn't, “God, I hate you so much”

"No, you don't" He chuckles.

And there it is, that unrestrained confidence Richie only shows around Eddie. A confidence that comes from knowing him all too well, a confidence that gives him the power of discerning when Eddie is bullshitting him.

It angers him, being so transparent to Richie. But he kind of loves it too. And the clash of these two feelings is the cause of Eddie's actions - that, and the alcohol; especially the alcohol. 

He pinches Richie on the side, and he's so fast, Richie can't do anything about it. 

“Hey!” Richie protests, but Eddie goes for it again.

Richie slaps his hand away, “Stop it!”

“Oh, you don't like this?” and pinches him again, “Oops, I did it again”

“Did you just fucking quote Britney Spears, Eduardo?”

And yet another pinch comes his way. And Richie slaps his hand away again. And pinch, slap, pinch, slap. And they're both laughing with their whole bodies until they have to stop to breath, chests heaving in the process of getting his breathing even. 

Eddie's hand, which was still on his side from the last pinch, casually slides down until it reaches Richie's thigh. And it stays there, impossibly warm against the fabric.

Richie notices and his heartbeat stops for a second before he remembers this is not what his dick think it is. It's just Eddie. But he can't take this any more. "Eds, you... You're very touchy when you're drunk, you know that? I mean,” and he laughs nervously, hoping Eddie doesn't notice, "you're prone to give a man the wrong idea"

“What? Oh fuck, I'm-- I'm sorry” 

He takes away his hand like it burns, and blushes all the way to the tip of his ears. He really hopes the dim lights can cover it.

Richie looks down at the bar and smiles to himself as his brain says, ' _see, that's all it was_ '. 

Richie pats him on the shoulder as he gets up from the chair. "I'm wasted, man, I need some sleep. Good night."

“Good night” Eddie says back, but doesn't look him in the eye. Then, when Richie's left, he asks for another glass of water and chugs it down. He needs water, **tons of water**.


	3. I don't know how to reach you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAMMA MIA, HERE WE GO AGAIN
> 
> Disclaimer: some jokes belong to Ted Alexandro and Hampton Yount

It’s the morning after the wedding, and Eddie comes down the stars and into the hotel hall where the rest of his friends are waiting for him. His head is pounding, a sharp pain reminding him once again that he should not drink that much, that he’s an old man now. 

He had lost sight of every one of them when he joined Richie at the bar, but they looked like they were in a same state as he was. All but Stan, of course. Mike had sunglasses on, which was a pretty good indicator that he had drunk a bit too much. 

“At which tuh-tuh-time is your flight?” Bill asks Eddie.

“Yeah, no, I’m not actually going to the airport”

There’s a general frown, except for Richie, who stands there with his arms crossed.

“Where are you going then, Eddie?” Richie asks, playing dumb.

 _Little fucker_. But then he explains, he tells them that after divorcing Myra he had been looking for a change of scenery and a highly well-known company had just offered him a position in Los Angeles. He excuses himself the same way he did last night with Richie, saying that he didn’t want to say anything before everything was stable and he had settled down. They all seem happy for him, especially Bill, who had been living in LA for a while now, and was looking forward to get Eddie to tag along every time Richie and he made plans.

When they’re all set, they say goodbye and promise to keep in touch through the group chat. They leave for the airport, Ben and Bev on their way to their honeymoon and the rest of them going back home. 

Bill offers them a ride, which Richie accepts blindly, and Eddie rejects. Even though it sounds strange to Bill, (and Richie, who openly makes a pout confusion) he doesn’t push further, and they leave. 

Later on, when his suitcase is all packed, he calls a cab _home_.

***

Bill calls on a Thursday. Just a few days after the wedding. He asks Eddie if he’s free tomorrow, Eddie says of course he is, he doesn’t know anyone here, Bill tells him he’s got a point and adds that he asked because it’s the polite thing to do. Eddie smiles to the phone and asks him to go ahead and tell him what he wants. And what Bill wants is to meet for lunch before going on his book-signing tour which starts this Saturday. 

Eddie agrees on the spot.

And then he calls Richie. He doesn’t know why, because he hasn’t think of doing it, but he does. 

He picks up a few seconds later.

"Trashmouth speaking" comes from the other side of the line.

“Hey, Richie. It’s Eddie” fidgeting with his hands.

"I know it's you, dumbass, I have your number!" Richie replies but it's soft. "What do you need, man? Missed me already?"

“Yeah, right” he says as he runs a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. He does kind of miss him, doesn't he? “Listen, Bill called and asked if I wanted to meet tomorrow for lunch and I said yes and hmm… yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

It takes Richie less than a second to answer. "Does the Pope shit in the woods? Hmm, duh! Time and place, Eds, I'll be there"

“Great. Good, hmm...I don't know the place, I'll tell Bill to send you the location”

Why does he sound so fucking awkward all of a sudden?

Eddie isn't hanging up and neither is Richie.

"You alright, Eds?"

“Yeah” but he sounds dubious. There's a brief pause and then he shakes his head off, “Yes. I'm fine. Goodbye, Richie” 

And hangs up.

***

Bill has so many things to tell them it's kind of crazy that they only saw each other a week ago. But truth be told, aside from the bachelor party, they hadn't had many chances to talk. Richie had spent almost every minute either drinking until almost passing out or with Eddie (or both). Can't blame a guy for spending every minute he has available with his lifelong crush, especially considering he lives in New York. _Lived_. Richie smiles, absorbed in thought, when Bill’s question brings him back to reality.

"S-s-so, Eddie, have you been seeing Abigail? I think sh-she really liked you, even if y-y-you didn't talk much in the end"

"Why is everyone so interested in my love life all of a sudden?" he says as he sips at his glass.

Bill takes a sip from his own beer. "I-I-I'm just saying she seemed nice and she was clearly into y-y-you. I figured you'd l-l-leave with her that night, why didn't you?"

Richie considers squeezing his glass until it shatters, or maybe sticking his fork right into his hand. Anything sounds like a much better option than listening to Bill ask Eddie why didn't he have sex with the blondie, and that's only because the answer would be of no comfort.

“I don't--” he starts but then he seems to change his mind. “What’s with all the questions? What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

"Yeah, Bill, give him a break" he says absentmindedly, with his mouth full of meat.

They both turn to him like his head just exploded. 

Eddie talks first, or tries to. “Did you just ask him to stop probing me? You--” He blinks a couple of times, like his brain is processing this new information, “who gets off of annoying people?”

Richie swallows as subtly as he can. "Annoying you is my passion. Bill, get yourself your own gnome, this one is taken." He says.

Bill muses as he chews on a piece of steak, looking strangely at Richie. "What about you t-then? How come none of y-y-you assholes got lucky that n-night? Bev has many pretty friends. I have t-t-to admit I'm disappointed, Rich”

Eddie pointedly looks at him, his lips turning into a sly smile, “Yeah, Richie, what about you? Were none of Bev's beautiful friends good enough for you?”

Richie places both his fork and knife on the table indignantly. "I save your ass and this is how you repay me, asshole?"

“This is payback,” he says, smiling proudly, “for all those other times. So please do tell us, Rich”

"I'm gay"

He can't breathe. His eyes are on his plate. His hands, flat against the table. He can't take it back. He could try and laugh it off. But he just can't. He's so tired. Half of his friends already know. It's only a matter of time before they all do.

He needs to do this. Keeping it to himself might be painful but it's comforting because it's his secret. It's his and no one else's. Just like his love for Eddie. But it's been like this for far too long and he promised himself he'd move on. Because he survived a fucking demon clown, twice. And he deserves a happy ending. Even if it's not the one he wants.

And so, he doesn't take it back. Instead he waits for whatever the response might be.

Bill chokes on his drink and Eddie hasn't blinked in the last thirty seconds.

_He’s gay?_

“You're gay?”

Then his brain cells start working again, though only just “What do you mean you're gay?”

Richie can't talk. He can't even look up. 

But he breathes in and out, ever so slowly, and grows the necessary balls to look up at them.

"I mean, none of them were good enough for me" he makes a pause to let his brain get used to functioning again, "because I only like men"

 _Okay, so he's gay_.

Eddie wonders what is he supposed to do with this information. He's experiencing a mixture of feelings he can't tell apart.

“R-R-Richie, I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry. I sh-sh-shouldn't have p-p-pushed you like th-that”

And that's when Eddie realises he's being an asshole, “Fuck, Rich, I'm sorry too. I didn't know--”

"Shut up, both of you, it's--" He realises he's being too casual and he's actually terrified. "You okay with it?" It's meant for both of them but when his eyes shift to Eddie's, they linger there, because it's his reaction he cares the most about.

“Of course we're okay with it” Eddie says, almost frowning in offense, but his voice doesn't quite back up his words “Right Bill?”

Bill nods frantically by his side.

Bill places his hand on Richie's. "I'm s-s-sorry it took me being nosy for you to c-c-come out, but I'm glad you did." Richie smiles a bit, small, maybe shy, but calm.

"Yeah" Eddie adds, rubbing the back of his head, "I was an asshole"

"Yeah, you were" Richie bites back but he's smirking at him.

Bill orders another round of beers on him. "So, Rich, any g-g-guys caught your attention at the wedding?"

"Are you sexualizing my preferences, Bill? I'll have you know, that's extremely politically incorrect and you should be ashamed of yourself. You are cancelled. And so are all your homophobic books."

Bill is chuckling. "They're not-- Oh! So that's why it p-p-pissed you off so much that the g-gay ones--!"

Richie bumps his fist on the table. "I fucking knew it, you fucking bastard, they're all gay!"

 _This is fine. This. Is. Fine._ So turns out Richie is gay, and Bill is asking about guys, and Richie is deflecting the question like a pro, like he always does. _When did they talk about Bill’s characters?_ It must've been in Las Vegas, but Eddie can't barely remember anything from that night. Well, he can remember some things. He can remember marrying his best friend on alcohol induced craziness. He also remembers the instagram stories, and how he kissed Richie. _This is fine_ , he repeats to himself. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm such an asshole._

Richie is still babbling. "Let me guess, I'm betting here 20 bucks, you killed the gay one in your new book. It's a wild guess but I'm feeling bold, Billy-boy."

Bill is looking down at his plate as he tries not to give anything away. "You'll have t-t-to buy it and see for yourself."

"What? With my own money?! Bill, I'm unemployed and gay, I'm fucked. You're even more discriminating than I thought." He pretends to be offended.

"Fine, fine..." Bill sighs. "Yeah, he does." Richie mouthed an accusatory ' _I fucking knew it_ ' and Bill adds. "In my defense, he g-got to open his heart to his l-l-love interest before he died."

"Because that's not homophobic at all" Richie says before finishing his beer.

"The other guy was married to a woman!"

"Scandalous!" Richie gasps, in an old woman voice.

Eddie is still processing but Bill's words get to him.

“So you made him fall for his straight friend?” Eddie says, playing it off, “Even I know that's a cliche, Bill”

Bill shrugs. "What d-d-do you want me to say? Un-unreq-unrequited love sells well enough."

Richie leans back into his seat. "Maybe so, Big Bill, maybe so."

***

Richie lays back on his seat after they’re finished eating, he’s discussing with Bill some movie Eddie hasn’t had the time to see just yet when their coffee orders arrive, along with the check. The conversation dies down naturally, and they stay in silence for a bit, while they stir their coffees.

“Richie” Bill says, and he immediately looks up at him with one raised eyebrow.

“Bill” he says back, grinning.

“Tell me tuh-tuh-to shut up if I’m overs-s-stepping, okay?”

"When have I ever stopped anyone from overstepping? Overstepping is my kink, Bill, hit me with it" he says.

“Does anyone else fruh-from the group know?” he asks, and then cautiously.

Richie tries not to cringe as he says this. "Everyone knows, except Mike", he can see Eddie's stunned expression so he proceeds to make excuses. "For the record, it was all kind of accidental. Bev always knew, from when we were kids. She told Ben after Derry, because she can't keep her pretty mouth shut. And Stan knew too, apparently. So that left the three of you."

 _Does make sense, doesn’t it?_ Eddie thinks, but he can’t help feel betrayed in some way. And it’s not fair, because Richie hadn’t told them, they just knew, they found out. And Eddie didn’t. Why didn’t he? He was supposed to be his best friend.

“So Mike doesn’t know?” Eddie asks.

"Not yet... Should probably text him about it. I'm not worried about him. I know he'll be cool as he is with everything else. He lives in fucking Florida now."

Bill opens his mouth to speak, but Eddie interrupts him, scowling. “Were you worried about telling us but not Mike? What the fuck, bro? You don’t trust us?”

Richie looks at him in silence for a couple of seconds. Like he wants to say something badly but just won't do it. "Have you seen yourself? You dress like a fucking Republican, you could've been homophobic so easily. Bill was fine, he's a celebrity, he's used to gays by now, aren't you, Bill?"

“Yes, I’m-- I suppose I am” he answers, hesitant.

Eddie doesn’t scowl this time, he glowers. “Just because I don’t dress like an angsty teenager that doesn’t mean I dress like a fucking Republican, asshole” then considers for a moment, but he’s so unreasonably mad that he adds, “And you thought I’d be homophobic because of the way I dress? That’s some prejudice right there for you”

"I'm the repressed and oppressed one, you don't get to be mad!" Richie bites back.

Bill is getting restless. "G-guys, calm down. Ed-Eddie, Richie just came out of t-t-the closet, give him a break"

"That's right, bitch!"

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, “Yeah, okay, fine” and purses his lips “I guess you’re right”

Why is he being such an asshole? He knows he’s behaving like a dick, but he can’t just seem to stop it.

“Again,feel free tuh-tuh-to stop me…” he starts, and Richie rolls his eyes, as if saying _We’ve been over this, pal. Just shoot_. “Duh-do you plan on cuh-coming out publicly?”

Richie shrugs. "I think, at this point, I might as well just be done with it. I just don't want to make a circus around it, y'know? I just want people to know about it and leave me the fuck alone."

Bill nods in understanding. "I-I just need to ask at this p-p-point, Rich, have you been secretly 'involved' with any celebrity?'

"Eds, call a priest, I think Bev's spirit has possessed Bill's body" Despite the reply, Richie looks amused. "Nah, I-" and yet, slightly uncomfortable. "Well, I haven't really been dating anyone... In general. Hookups don't count. And your mother doesn't count either, Eds"

Has Richie had hookups with other guys? He must have, he just said so. Which is completely normal, by the way. He’s a grown ass man, and he’s gay, and he’s slept with other men. All completely fucking normal, yet Eddie can’t seem to wrap his head around it. So he deflect this outburst of god knows what he’s experiencing by coming back at Richie.

“Oh my god, you’re such a fraud!” he says, hiding all those things under a smile that comes out more sincere than he would have expected. “You are never allowed to use a mom joke again. It’s banned for you!”

Richie cackles. "Would you like me to start with the ' _I fucked your dad jokes_ ', Eds?" And the motherfucker winks at him.

Eddie gapes. "You- You're-- You're touched in the head" and manages to pull himself together. "There's no cure for what you have" then pauses for a moment and widens his eyes, realizing what he just said. "I meant, the sex jokes! Not the... not the other thing"

Richie bites the inside of his cheek and it's like Eddie just threw an ice-cold bucket of water down his back. He looks down at his coffee for a moment, in silence. He desperately wants to make a joke but he has no idea what to say, his mind is reeling. He knew this would happen. He fucking knew it. _'Eddie will be okay with it', my ass, Stan_.

Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, reassure him, but Richie’s across the table and the only thing close at hand is, literally his hand. And that’d be weird, and awkward. 

_Bill had done it, though._ It doesn’t matter. 

So he settles for an apology.

“Fuck, Rich, I’m so sorry” he rubs his eyes. Everything but looking up, “I don’t know why I said that”

He’s managed to fuck up so many times in the last few days, it’s a miracle Richie hasn’t already told him to fuck off.

Richie swallows. "It's fine" he says, but he means to say ' _but this is what I was afraid off in the first place_ '. 

Bill clears his throat. "W-w-what if you just post an insta-story saying you're g-gay? Feels more... you, considering current events"

Richie nods. "Anything to make this less awkward" He slides his phone to Bill, who picks it up and starts recording.

Richie breathes in and out. _This is it_. 

He looks straight at the camera. He should be smiling for this, but he's not feeling it. Somehow, he thinks, maybe the fact that he isn't making a joke out of it is what will make it real for people.

"Hey there, I'm gay. No- cut, that's awful"

Bill starts recording again. "Heyyy... Trashmouth here, just letting you know- Fuck, shit, this is stupid"

Eddie just sits there, trying not to stare but also trying not to look away in an obvious manner. He made things awkward between them. _Again_. And it’s so painful to see Richie being so self-conscious.

So, he clears his throat, and says: “Make a joke”, then shifts in the chair and dares to look at him. “You should make a joke about it. You’re good at making jokes. Do that”

Maybe he's right. Maybe it could help him relax if he starts by joking a bit. Bill starts recording again. 

"The other day I got a blowjob from a guy wearing a ' _what would Jesus do?_ ' bracelet. Luckily, he was good. Would've been awkward if I had to correct him...", he looks down, as if he were talking to the guy in question, "' _Jesus would use less teeth..._ ', ' _Jesus would work the balls..._ '" He scratches the back of his head looking around, trying not to laugh at his own material. Then he falls silent. "... I hope he would" He smiles to himself, pleased. "Because I'm gay. In case you didn't notice by now. And this is my coming out video."

Remember when Eddie thought joking about it would be a good idea? Well, scratch that. It was a terrible idea. He did not need to think about some guy blowing Richie. 

Bill smiles, proudly, “Th-that’s perfect, dude”

Richie looks at Eddie, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah,” he swallows, “that was good, Rich”

***

It’s a Friday afternoon, and Eddie stands in front of a mirror of the men’s room in his company building. He’s meeting with Bill and Richie in a while, and doesn’t have time to go back to his place and get a change of clothes, so he’s trying to decide if he keeps the tie or not. He feels it’d be too formal to wear it, but he’s not a fan of the suit look without it. 

He ends up taking it off. 

He scratches his newly grown beard, and that’s the other thing that worries him. After that lunch at the restaurant, where Richie told him he looked like a Republican, he had made the decision of modernizing his look a little bit. The beard had seemed like a good option then, but now he wasn’t so sure. He knows Richie is going to comment on it, he just knows. 

He keeps it on.

He doesn’t know where they’re going, Bill wouldn’t tell him. So, he’ll blame Bill if he made all the wrong decisions in regards to the dress code.

Eddie gets there first, as he always does. Bill sent the street address, in order to keep the mystery, so he stands in the walkside near a streetlight and checks his phone while he waits. Bill is punctual, so he’s there on time, but Richie is already ten minutes late and Eddie is starting to feel antsy. He hates waiting. 

From behind him, he hears a whistle, and Bill smiles in its direction, which means it’s Richie. Eddie checks his watch and _yep, 20 minutes late, very Richie_. Then he turns around, with every intention to call him out.

"Holy fuck" The words escape Richie's mouth before he can close it. It takes him about to seconds to put on a façade. "Eds, I don't want to alarm you, but I think last time you went camping a squirrel died on your face"

Eddie frowns. “What--?”, then realizes what he’s talking about and sighs while rolling his eyes. “You’re so predictable. Yes, I grew a beard, so what, dickhead? Does it look so bad?”

Richie just stares at it. "No, looks... Good. Yeah, man. Looks good. I just couldn't resist." He knows he's nodding too much while he talks, like he's stupid or something.

After walking down the street for a couple of minutes, Bill stops. “This is it” and points his head at the entrance besides him.

Eddie examines the place from outside and notices blue-lightning coming from inside. He then looks up and finds, in bold, fluorescent letters, the name of the place. **Nine Inch Males.**

 _No, no, no, no_. It’s all Eddie is able to think.

Richie chuckles awkwardly. "Can you be any more cliché, Bill? Jesus Christ, man..."

"Come on, Rich. I a-a-asked my agent and he r-r-recommended this place. You need to get out there, let yourself be seen, you're g-g-getting old."

Richie is wearing a horrendous Hawaiian shirt, some dark jeans and a leather jacket. Thicker than the one he took to Derry. He got rid of all those clothes after the sewers episode. He felt disgusting.

He hides his hands inside his pockets. "Don't think this makes up for all the gay characters you've slaughtered for the sake of drama. I will be their avenger."

Okay, so now he’s gotta act cool and chill, even though he’s scared shitless and he doesn’t know why, but he’s been enough of a dick for the past weeks to not at least try and do something nice for Richie. 

They’re both looking at him, Bill and Richie, and they’re expecting him to refuse to go inside, it’s crystal clear, right there on their faces. So he proves them wrong, he swallows that knot in his throat. “After you”

They march in, the music is loud but not as loud as to not be able to hear each other if they raise their voices a bit. Most people seem their age, which is nice, since Richie had feared for a moment that they'd be surrounded by young punks. There he is, his inner old man. He'd rather be at home, with no pants on, drinking beer and watching old X Factor episodes. He loves Simon Cowell, with his stupid English accent and his rude remarks.

The lights are blue and dim and all together not the best, especially for his shortsightedness, but he guesses it's part of the charm.

Bill takes them to an empty table he has spotted in the back, it's got a nice view of the bar and the open space in the middle that is reserved for dancing. 

Before taking a seat, they order some drinks. Richie goes for beer, plain and simple, and Eddie does the same. Bill, however, goes for a cocktail named Suck, bang & blow. Eddie is very close to bursting, and Richie thinks it's kind of cute he's trying so hard to hide it. The list of ingredients for that cocktail is fucking long, so they have to wait for a while before it's mixed and they can occupy their seats. And on top of it all, Bill asks the waiter to put in it _‘one of those little umbrellas’._

“I'm guh-gonna be honest, Rich" he says once they're seated. "I expected so-m-me resistance t-to this" and waves in the general direction of the pub.

Richie considers. "Like it would've made any difference. Plus, I'm trying to work on some... personal stuff and this was the perfect chance for it, so, yeah, man, here we are. Ooof... I've never surrounded by so much gayness. I'm usually the one surrounding it."

Bill snickers. "Man, that's-- I really d-d-don't want to know the details. I'm s-s-suportive but, please, please, never tell me about your sex life"

Richie laughs, drinks from his beer and looks around to scan the crowd. 

He can't do this. He just can't. Coming out to his friends is one thing but finding someone at a gay bar with your unrequited love right at your left side is too much. He knows he has to do it. If he can do this, he can move on. This is healthy. This is... something. Something good, he supposes. He wants to go home and bury his face in a pillow.

“See anything yuh-you like?” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eddie sips at his beer, and keeps sipping, because he wants to choke on it. 

"Not really, no" Richie looks down at his hand on the beer. "At least, there's beer"

“Ruh-really? Literally no one is this bar ap-appeals to M-mister Tozier?” Bill prods, then takes the little umbrella out of his cocktail and points at some guy in the crowd, “Whu-what about th-that guy? H-he’s cute.”

Eddie glances at the guy. He’s tall, and blond, and sort of jacked, but not too much. Richie can do better than that, he’s not _that_ handsome.

Richie bites the inside of his cheek. "Not really my thing"

“Wuh-what about th-that one?” 

This time he points at a younger guy, it’s dark-haired, slim.

Richie considers. "He's too tall" he mutters and he drinks some more. "And clearly too young, he has no experience... but who am I to judge. Shit, this is sad, man...."

“Yuh-you know, this would b-be easier if you tuh-told us whu-what’s your type”

And Eddie wants to say _the fuck it’d be, shut up, Bill_ , but he doesn’t because he doesn’t know where that impulse is coming from and he doesn’t like it.

Richie is silent for a minute. "Shorter than me, I guess. Not too young, I don't wanna feel like a pedo." He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have said that. Too close. Too obvious. His heartbeat is going crazy. He's going to have a stroke.

"Oh-okay, it's a buh-bit general but we can wuh-work with that" Bill says, sounding kind of pleased.

Richie gets up a fast as lightning. "I'm gonna get another beer", he says before storming to the bar, leaving Bill and Eddie by themselves at the table.

“Can you believe this guy?” Eddie says as Richie leaves. Bill gives him a questioning look. “He is constantly giving me shit for my height and now it turns out that's what gets him off”

Eddie's tone of utter disbelief is cut off by a guy taking Richie’s spot on the table.

The stranger gets Bill's attention. "Hey, handsome. I'm Jesse. What's yer name?"

Bill smiles politely. "S-s-sorry, man, I'm married." He lifts his hand to show him the ring.

The stranger is tall, buff, a bit younger than them, his voice is warm. Southern. "Do I make ya nervous, darlin’?" 

"I h-ha-have a stutter, and I'm also straight." Bill laughs.

The stranger turns to Eddie then. "What about ya, huh?"

"What about me?" Eddie replies, distracted.

The stranger smiles widely. "You married too?"

"I was", he says with a frown.

He leans into Eddie's space and Bill is staring wildly at what is happening before his eyes. 

"Straight then?" he probs, his voice seductive, for whoever is into that kind of thing.

Is this guy coming on to him? Is that what's happening right now, right here? He glances at Bill to get some kind of sign, and his open, wide eyes confirm his suspicions. And he becomes nervous, in a matter of seconds, he doesn't know what to say.

“I’m n-- no--”

The guy gets closer. Something about Eddie's freaking out moment seems to encourage him. “You stutter too?”

Bill’s eyes are about to pop. He's coming on to him so strongly and Eddie hasn't jumped from his seat yet.

He finally manages to get the words out. “Not interested, thanks” and he sounds so polite about it it's kind of weird.

"You sure, partner? We could have a lot of fun. I like the beard..."

“Yeah, no, I’m-- pretty sure, yeah”, he's looking everywhere but at the guy. Or Bill, because he can see that asshole’s entertained smile from the corner of his eye, “Here comes Richie with our drinks!” he says, bolting from his seat. “Let me help you, dude.”

Richie meets Eddie halfway and gives him his jar. "Who's that?"

"I don't know, man. He just... sat there. With us. And hitted on Bill.”

Richie cackles. "Oh, _really_? Well, well, well, who would've thought, huh, Spaguetti?" They finally get to the table and the stranger is already leaving with a disappointed expression. "Bill, my man, what happened, huh?" He sits on his spot, as Eddie joins them too. He's going to tease Bill to death.

Bill chuckles. "He seemed like a very nice guy. But I think he liked Eddie better--"

Eddie cuts him off, raising his voice over Bill's. “Do you know fish don't have eyelids? It’s fucking-- how do they sleep?”

Richie turns to him for a second with a confused expression and then back to Bill. "What? He liked Eddie? That's--" he lets out a soft laugh, but it's not really a laugh. "--that's weird, man. Why would he, I mean--" he can tell he's babbling, he just can't stop. Because the idea of Eddie being hit on by a guy in a gay bar right in front of him is so... _painful_. "I mean, he's too straight, look at him. No offense, Eds, you're just, I don't know." He finishes and begins drinking from his beer.

“Okay, first of all, he didn't like _me_. He hitted on Bill but he told him he was happily married. And straight.” He punctuates with a finger. “So he tried for the other guy at hand, that's all it was. And second…” and he frowns at Richie, “first Republican, now _too straight_ , what the fuck that does mean? Too straight?”

Richie just stares at him open-mouthed.

"Yeah, man, you're too straight. Probably why no one's hitting on you at the moment." Richie chugs the beer like it's his last drink on Earth. _Look, mom, I'm an alcoholic now!_

Bill sees him and tries to stop him. "Rich, y-you need to stop, we're not here to get you w-w-wasted, man. You're s-s-supossed to get laid." As they fight over the beer jar, it slips their hands and falls to the floor, making a mess. "L-l-look what you've done, Richie!"

"Don't worry, I'll get a new one!"

"T-that's not what I--! Ugh" But Richie is already gone. "He's still a child, t-that's what he is.”

Richie disappears from his sight for a few seconds, until he makes his way to the bar, where Eddie can see him again. 

He turns back to look at Bill, who is uselessly attempting to clean the table with some paper towels. From one of its corners, the contents of the beer are dripping onto the floor. Eddie takes some paper towels too and helps Bill to clean up the mess. 

They've already used more than ten paper towels each and they had barely began with the floor. That's when Eddie gives up and decides to call someone from the staff so they can bring a mope or something. 

So he goes over the crowd, searching for the distinctive uniform people that work there wear. Instead of finding someone, Eddie spots Richie holding his new, full beer with his back leaning against the bar. And beside him a guy. Shorter than him, dark-haired, very smiley and extroverted by the looks of it. 

_‘He’s hitting on him’_ , it’s all Eddie thinks of. A quick, undeniable thought. 

The problem is not the thought, the problem is how this guy is leaning on Richie, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching over to speak in to his ear. He doesn't need to get that close, the music is not that loud. 

The unidentified guy slides a piece of paper, which Richie takes with the biggest smile. And seriously, who the fuck is this guy?

Richie asks the bartender for a pen and scribbles down something on the paper before sliding it back to the guy. He folds it and puts it in his back pocket. Eddie doesn't understand why but he feels sick all of a sudden. Was he repelled by two guys hitting it off? Was he repelled by Richie flirting with another guy? Was he fucking homophobic after all?

Bill brings him back, snapping his fingers before his eyes. “Eddie, wuh-we need that m-mope, man”

“Yes. Yes. On it.” and goes looking for someone.

About ten minutes later, Richie goes back to their table only to find it empty. They wouldn't have left without telling him, that'd be rude. He looks around and eventually finds them throwing darts.

Eddie is very concentrated, his back to him. Richie guesses this opportunity might not repeat itself so he slowly approaches his friend and pokes him in the side as he scares him loudly, and Eddie almost jumps out of his skin. "You fucking asshole!"

"Couldn't resist, plus it's payback for the other night." He starts faking a vulnerable voice. "I was intoxicated and you tortured me, Dr. Kaspbrak." He sits next to Bill at the new table. "Don't look at me like that, Eds, it's not like I ruined the show, you can't hit for shit, anyway."

Eddie looks at him, slightly offended, “Oh, you think you can do better?”

Richie stares at him with the biggest smile on his face. "Do _I_ think? Bill, this man is insulting my honor, hold my beer!"

Bill holds his beer, and drinks from it too, when Richie gets up again and joins Eddie without unlocking their eyes. "Mr. Dead-Squirrel-face, we meet again, at last... I'm going to destroy you, just so you know."

He picks up a few darts from their bowl.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “For a failed comedian, you sure have a big ego”

Richie fails to cover up a proud smile. "Oh, it's on".

And so, Eddie and Richie prepare themselves for the match of their lives.

***

“That was the match of our lives, Eds!" Richie says sinking back into his sit, drinking from his already half empty beer jar. "I won, though, as I said I would. You may kneel before your new bullseye-King."

“No, you didn't, asshole. You cheated!”

"What do you mean I cheated?! You can't cheat playing darts, you asshole, it's not possible!"

“Nuh-uh” he says, childishly. “Yes, you can. And you did. You were distracting me with your terrible jokes.”

"Don't forget my good looks too!"

He doesn't like to lose, he just doesn't. He's very competitive, so what? And he can't stand Richie not only winning but also rubbing it on his face. 

“Wanna go again?” he dares.

Bill buries his head in his hands, bracing himself. “Th-this is n-not what we came he--”

But Richie cocks an eyebrow at Eddie.

“You like your ass beaten, Eds? Is that some kind of kink or what?" He smiles smugly at the shorter man, and stands up from his seat.

Eddie bites his lip and smirks as he stands up and levels his gaze, “We’re playing pool this time.”

Bill reluctantly follows them to the pool table, stopping to get more drinks in the way. There’re two guys already playing, but Eddie figures they won’t take much longer. It looks more like foreplay than actual playing.

When they finally leave, not long after, as Eddie had anticipated, he starts preparing the game. He takes all solid and striped balls and puts them in the rack, placing the 8-ball in its designated position.

“Best of three?” he asks Richie as he takes his cue and chalks the end of it.

Richie feels extremely self conscious because he's trash at pool and he knows it. He's just praying for Eddie to be worse or at least just as bad.

"Alright, bring it on, Kaspbrak"

Eddie smirks and looks at Bill. “Have a coin on you?”

Bill nods, and pulls one from his back pocket where he put the change after paying for the drinks.

“Heads or tails?” he asks, glancing at Richie.

Richie's confidence would be wearing off if this match had any importance other than honor and glory. "Heads"

Setting his drink down, Bill tosses the coin, catching it with his left hand and slapping it over the back of his right hand. 

“Heads” Eddie’s smile doesn’t falter, and he stretches out his hand in invitation “You break then”

Richie goes around the table and leans to remove the triangular rack, then goes back to its initial position, and chalks his cue. He straightens his back and bends over, keeping some distance from the table, and he strikes the cue ball. The rest of the balls scatter, and a solid one gets into one of the pockets.

Since he manages to pot one, Richie relocates again and strikes the cue ball once more. This time he pots a striped one instead of a solid one.

“No need to do my work for me, Rich”

Richie says nothing as he sees Eddie positioning himself. He already knows he's gonna lose, he's not stupid, and Eddie is just showing off.

And honestly? Richie loves it.

Eddie looks for the best place to situate himself, but as he bends over in the right place, he feels his jacket being restrictive. He can’t quite move his arms comfortably because it’s tight around the upper-arm area. So he straightens back, takes it off and tosses at Bill, who barely manages to catch it.

Richie says nothing, but his mouth is watering. So, yeah, that's a problem.

He can feel other men's gazes on his friend. He's like a steak surrounded by hungry dogs.

He returns to his position, eyes the table, clearly focused on what he’s doing. When he’s ready he strikes the cue ball and pots a striped one. He doesn’t bother to look at Richie and Bill, he just grins and moves around the table. He strikes the cue ball again, pots another one, and checks his options. 

There are some striped balls that’d be easy to pot than others, but Eddie is feeling confident so he goes for the tough one. The cue ball is now in a difficult position, in the center of the table, so he goes around the table to where Richie and Bill stand and decides that’s the best spot. He flexes and loosens his back muscles. And then, because he’s not the tallest one in the lot, he leans on the table with most of his upper body to be able to strike the cue ball.

Richie's eyes can't help it and land on his ass. _Oh, shit, what an a-- I don't need this right now. Nope. No._ He looks around until his eyes find Bill, who is looking at him like he just- Like he just caught him red handed. Richie doesn't need to ask verbally, he just shrugs as in ' _what, that was nothing, definitely not what it looked like, so shut up_ '. Bill suppresses a laugh.

Eddie strikes and pots the right ball, barely touching any of Richie’s solids. He mutters a ‘ _yes_ ’, and goes back to his standing position. 

He goes around the table again, bends, and looks up at Richie. “Getting bored over there? Don’t worry, I’ll let you play for a bit”, and then purposefully fails to hit one of his stripes and instead pots one of Richie’s.

“Your turn”

Richie moves closer to the table and eyes Eddie, who's smiling smugly at him. He has this knot in his throat that makes him want to throw away the cue, grab Eddie's shirt and plunge his tongue into his mouth. But he's not thinking about it. He's not. Because that leads him nowhere and he doesn't want to pop a boner in the only place with normal lighting in this nightclub.

So he strikes the cue ball in the best way he can and manages to pot one of his, but he also pots one of Eddie’s in the process. 

Eddie, who had just picked up his beer, huffs out a laugh. "Are you this bad or are you losing on purpose?" then smirks and repeats Richie’s words. “You like your ass beaten, Rich? Is that some kind of kink?"

Richie extends his hand in Bill's direction, who gets what he means and passes him his beer. He chugs it down like a champ. ' _Wish you wanted to find out_ ', he thinks, but doesn't say.

He gives Richie a break, potting the remaining striped balls in one turn, and resetting them all in the rack. 

This next round is Eddie who breaks and goes with stripes again. Richie starts losing from minute one, but Eddie doesn’t give him the chance of surrender. He intentionally pots some of Richie’s solids so they’re even. _“Come on, Rich. Put up some resistance, you’re making this too easy”_

As time passes, people gather around them to witness how Richie gets his ass kicked. It’s only natural. But Eddie, even though he feels sure of himself, still focuses each time that he actually wants to pot a certain ball or put Richie’s in a difficult position. He’s being cocky but not stupid, he can’t let his cockiness backfire on him. 

The place has gotten warmer since it got crowded, and Eddie starts feeling sort of hot, so now he rolls up his sleeves and undoes the top button of his shirt, before chalking his cue again. He then bends over and closes one eye, measuring distance.

Richie is leaning his back on their table for now, drinking beer as he waits for his turn. He's not worried about getting too drunk to play straight. He chuckles to himself. _Straight_.

It's not like he had a chance in the first place, maybe it's better that he's getting drunk so he can pretend that's the reason why he's so bad at it.

However, Eddie is making breathing normally difficult, for obvious reasons. If it were up to Richie, he'd make Eddie wear what he's wearing everyday. He pulls out his phone to check the time. 

But before he can stop himself, before putting it back inside his pocket, he snaps a pic of Eddie. It'll be useful during his lonely nights at the sea.

When Eddie is sure about the strike, someone’s comment near him catches his attention.

“Isn’t that the comedian who totally fucked up like a year ago?”

“It wasn’t that long ago”, some other guy says back. “It was right before summer. Didn’t know he was gay”, then adds, with some trace of disgust, “I thought the scruffy look was part of his stage persona... but apparently it isn’t”

Eddie glances at them, just a quick look to examine them before going back to the task at hand. One of them looks in his thirties, but the other one seems their age. 

“I don’t know”, the older one says, as Eddie is about to hit the cue ball, “I’d blow him in the toilets if he let me”

And Eddie’s hand falters, missing the cue ball in his strike and hitting the 8-ball instead. Luckily he doesn’t pot it, but Bill and Richie are gazing at him with a questioning look when he glances up. 

“What? It fucking slipped” he says, even though no one said anything.

Eddie’s little mishap turns the game in Richie’s favor. He still doesn’t think he has a chance to win, even less now that he’s downed a couple of beers more. But he is content he’s being able to keep his impulses under control; that it’s a win in it self. 

Richie manages to pot two more solid balls before failing, and then Eddie, as if had regained all his focus, pots each and every one of his striped balls, and the crowd cheers for him. For a moment, he had forgotten they were even there. 

That means that he’s won and that they don’t have to play the third one because it wouldn’t make any difference. He’s already won the first two. 

So he joins Richie and Bill, and chugs down his warm beer and grimaces at the taste.

Bill looks tired as he pokes at Bill's arm for attention. "We c-came here to find you a boyfriend, not to have a pool tou-tou-tournament with Eddie"

Richie grimaces. "Man, I don't do places like this. I know what I want, and it's not here, because I wouldn't come here in the first place"

Bill frowns. "And y-y-you think he's just gonna spawn at your door one day?"

"No, but I don't really care..." Richie is tired. He just wants to stop this nonsense. "Bill, I really appreciate you doing this for me but, but I don't need it. I'll find someone my way or I won't. Dating is like farting. If you force it, it'll end up being shit" he finishes and downs the rest of his beer. The last one for the night.

Bill grimaces in disgust.

"I'm gonna take a leak, be right back" Richie says as he gets up from his seat and marches into the crowd.

Eddie, who has just finished his beer, calls for him. “Wait”, and sprints to him, “I need to go too.”

He has been wanting to go to the toilet for a while but didn't really have the guts to go by himself. Like something would happen to him if he did. It's silly. So, so silly.

Richie waits for him and they walk to the toilet together. Richie leads the way, Eddie follows closely behind. 

They step into the toilet and it seems empty. There are a couple of stalls, and not many urinals, which throws away Eddie's plan to keep his distance. He doesn't remember much from Vegas, but he does remember choosing to pee right next Richie, and he'd like to ask his past self why _would he fucking do that_. 

So he takes the urinal that is closest to the first stall, and lets Richie take the one on the other end of the line.

Richie is incredibly self-conscious at the moment. He's sweaty, he's tipsy, he's tired and, let's be honest here, a bit horny too. But that's just because he's been surrounded by horny men for a couple of hours now.

He hears movement in one of the stalls. Too much for one person. 

And suddenly his suspicions are confirmed when the distinct sound of breathless moans cames from said stall. Followed by what can only be the sound of skin slapping against skin.

He's amazed at Eddie's obliviousness, considering he's the one right next to the stall where the noises are coming from. But then his eyes widen, his jaw clenches, and he's blushing all the way to the tip of his ears.

Richie smiles to himself, amused. They zip their pants almost simultaneously and don't look at each other on their way out. 

Once they step out, Richie starts cackling, bending over with laughter.

"Jesus, I don't know about you, Eds, but I'm not used to that" he says, signaling back at the toilets.

Eddie turns his head at him, “I’m-- I j-- Do you know how many things they can catch from that?”

His blush starts to fade as he sees Richie. His laughter has always been infectious and now it's no different. The awkwardness they just experienced is set aside and replaced by the sudden need to laugh. Uncontrollably. And that's exactly what he does.

“I mean--” but he keeps laughing, “what the fuck was that?”

Richie hits him playfully on the shoulder. "That, was something you'll probably never have to see ever again. You can tell your grandkids about that one time you went with uncle Richie to a gay club."

“Dude, I’m 40 and single. I’m not having grandkids” but it doesn’t sound like he cares. “And you’d never be anywhere near them. Look what happened when that kid approached you at the restaurant.” 

He starts laughing again, remembering how Richie grabbed the poor kid and shook him while he yelled non-sensical things at him.

“That was-- That was peak comedy for you.”

Richie looks at him fondly again, chuckling. "You think so? I don't know man, I liked my wedding speech better. I'll have you know... It was completely improvised, I lost the real one."

“You lost the fucking best man speech?” he waves with his hands. “I can’t fucking believe you. You're a walking mess!” and swats him on the chest with the back of his hand. “But I gotta say, it was pretty good. The speech, I mean. I don’t know how the fuck you managed to improvise all that”

Richie shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm all wit and raw talent, I can't help it" Eddie is so close... he could just draw his arm around his shoulders. And so he does that on impulse, because he's tipsy and that's a good excuse as any other.

Eddie doesn’t complain, quite the opposite, in fact. He leans on to the touch, and looks up at Richie, who is very, _very_ close. He scrunches up his nose, going for disapproval. “Get off your high horse, asshole”, and he pinches him on the side. Just as he did at the wedding, only this time he is considerably less drunk.

Richie grabs his forearm. "Don't start something you can't win, asshat. We should probably get going anyway, it's late and I'm not in the mood for... any of this." He says looking around, and there are so many men making out it's hard not to be extremely aware of his arm, like a vice around Eddie's shoulders. They need to leave, this idea is backfiring very quickly.

“Yes, I guess you’re right” and then quickly clarifies, “about getting Bill and get going. I could totally win a pinching battle. I just kicked your ass playing pool. You should’ve seen your face” he teases, “you were begging me to put an end to your suffering and finish you off.”

' _Oh, I'd beg for you to finish me off, alright_ ', Richie thinks. "In your dreams, Kaspbrak. C'mon, let's find Big Bill. I can't believe we left him alone, he's like a candy in a playground. Do you think he's still alive?" Richie says letting his arm fall from Eddie's shoulders.

Bill is waiting for them where they left him. Eddie’s jacket still hangs from his left arm, and there are a couple of guys talking to him. _Quite close_ , Eddie thinks.

They pick him up, even though he insisted he was having a good time. And they leave the establishment. The night isn't too cold but they're sweaty and every drop on their bodies is freezing. Richie is fine but he wonders if Eddie's cold in that suit. The jacket's fabric doesn't look very thick.

Bill had been drinking shots with those guys in their absence, so they got him an Uber just in case before the two of them walked away.

"You're not gonna take an Uber too?" Eddie asks, as he sees Richie walk along.

"Nah, I rather walk home, I need some good ol' fresh oxygen. I can't get that public toilet smell out of my nose, man. Ugh. I'll walk you home." He says. His mind betrays him and for a second he feels like this might look like the end of a date. But it clearly isn't, so he brushes off that feeling and they keep on walking side by side.

“You don't even know where I'm stay-- living. Could be in the opposite direction from your place”, he argues, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. It's much colder than when they got there earlier in the night.

"I don't mind. I know my way around LA just fine, Eds... You cold there?"

“I'm-- no, I'm fine. I overestimated LA weather, I thought it’d be warmer, that's all”, and then chuckles, because he's trying to not give away that he's actually pretty cold, and doing that covers his need to shiver. It'll probably get better when they've been walking for a while and his body has warmed up.

"I'm sorry Bill dragged you into this mess. He still has that leadership thing going on. You looked so out of place back there", he laughs sincerely.

Eddie shrugs. “It was not that bad. I mean, I'm not looking forward to going back but… yeah, it was-- fun”, and then chews the question over, because his brain is sending him mixed messages. _Fucking again. Ask. Don't ask._ “Did you… have fun? Going there. Being with y’know… people that you might want to… date.”

 _Very eloquent, Eddie_ , he thinks to himself.

Richie sees Eddie is hunched over, trying to keep his body as warm as possible, and gets closer so their arms touch. "It was alright but it's not really my natural habitat. I'm a... 'stay-at-home' gay, I'm sure that has to be a thing." He realises how easy the word came out of his mouth. "But it feels liberating in a way, I guess. I've never really done anything like this. Wouldn't do it on my own. Well, I didn't even remember I was gay until Mike called, so, you know. If there's a gay membership card, I doubt they'll give me seniority. Maybe when you've been gay for a decade they give you, like, a mug or something." He knows he's rambling.

Eddie notices Richie has gotten closer to him and he knows why he's done it. It's weird, how that makes him feel-- that he just got closer and didn't mention it or made a joke about it. And Eddie finds himself wanting to get even closer, probably under Richie's arm as he was just minutes ago. 

“You didn't remember you were gay?” he asks, utterly confused, “How is-- How's that even possible? Didn't you like… do stuff during all those years?”

Why the hell can't he say _have sex_ , why is it so difficult? He sounds like a fucking child.

"Nope, not with men" he says, and the more he talks about it, the easier it seems. He laughs absentmindedly. "It's so weird... I tried dating women, so many times. And it just didn't feel right. I thought, maybe, I just wasn't in love, like maybe I needed to be in love to have a good time with them... Turns out I'm fucking gay. Surprise, bitch!"

Still walking down the street, Eddie tries to wrap his head around everything Richie is saying. Can someone really be… like that and not know? 

“And why did you remember when Mike called? Why not before?"

Richie just shrugs. "The fuck do I know, Eds... It just came all to me, my memories of Derry, the losers, the fucking clown... It was just another thing to add to that package."

Eddie bites his lip. “Fuck, I'm-- I'm sorry if I'm being too… I don't know. It's just--” but he doesn't find the way to end that thought.

And they stay silent for a while, still close to each other, brushing their shoulders, arms, and even fingers at some point. But they say nothing. 

There's a moment in which Eddie, lost in thought, doesn't stop for a red light and Richie grabs his hand and pulls him back to safety, then quickly lets go.

They cross the street and keep walking. He's getting cold so he puts his hands in his pockets but stays closer to Eddie. "I should've come out sooner. The moment I entered the fucking restaurant, probably. That clown was using it against me. Remember the fucking closets? _Fucking-homophobic-alien-demon-asshole_." Richie kicks a can out of the way.

“Ohhhh” Eddie says, as everything starts to fall into place, “so that’s what all that was about. I didn't understand shit. I understood my thing because it was pretty straightforward but that-- I didn't know what was the point of it” then mulls it over, “That's fucking twisted, man.”

Richie turned to look at him and nodded eagerly. "I know right? If I had come out then and there, he--" He remembered the most important part of it all. _Eddie_. He would've done it anyway. _I couldn't tell Eddie._ "Yeah, so you know what I mean. And now it's dead and I get to come out. I'd say 'he can suck my dick' but he cannot. He's banned from my dick.”

“Somehow we always end up talking about your dick” he jokes, and stifles a smile.

"Well, it's the best thing I've got and my most trusted ally, Eddie Spaguetti. It knows me better than anyone else." he answers, elbowing Eddie softly.

Eddie covers his ears. “ _La la la la la_ ” he says, raising his voice “I don't wanna hear any more talking about your dick, asshole”, and keeps his hands in place when he turns to Richie.

Richie turns to him as well. "What? You don't wanna talk about my dick? But your mom loved it so much, Eds!" Eddie's eyes are wide and he's trying not to hear him but Richie keeps talking louder. "She would talk about it all the time when I was balls deep--" he cackles, "I'm sorry I can't even do it anymore."

Eddie drops his hands and gasps, acting offended. “I told you you were banned from doing mom jokes!” and pokes him on the shoulder with a finger so as to accentuate his words.

Richie smirks down at him. "And what are you gonna do about it, Eds?!"

So Eddie accepts the challenge and reaches for Richie's glasses in a quick motion. Taking them off before Richie can do anything about it.

“What about this, huh, dickhead?”

"Very mature, Eddie. You want me to get robbed? I'm gay now, I'm always in danger. This is USA, you'll be responsible for a hate crime!"

“Okay, don't be a drama queen” Eddie finds himself saying. He doesn't remember having used that term before, and Richie frowns and looks at Eddie's general direction because he can't focus for shit. “I'll be your eyes. Don't you trust me, Rich?” and his voice sounds terribly playful.

"I trust my dick better but it has no eyes either, so you'll have to do" he replies smugly, and throws his arm around Eddie swiftly. And actively ignores the heat blooming in his chest.

“You mention your dick again, you're never getting your glasses back.” Eddie warns him.

Taking off Richie's glasses might have been the best decision he's made in the whole night, because his warm body is now pressed against Eddie's and, all of a sudden, he isn't cold anymore.

"Fine, fine. Lead the way, you little shit."

They keep walking like that, like a couple of drunks if someone saw them from afar. Taking advantage of Richie's blurry sight, Eddie lets him trip a couple of times, but keeps him in place so he won't fall. He complains, as expected, but doesn't insist on getting his glasses back. 

Less than ten minutes later, Eddie stops and gives back Richie's glasses. 

Richie puts them on, getting used to seeing clearly again.

“So, this is me”, says Eddie, freeing himself from Richie's. He feels the loss of warmth instantly and wishes he hadn't pulled away so quickly.

Richie looks behind Eddie, who had just turned to him. "What do you mean? This is a hotel."

“Nothing gets past you, huh?” he jokes, shifting from one foot to another.

Richie's confused expression turns pissed in a second. "The fuck?! You're living in a hotel? Are you mentally deficient?! You can't live in a hotel!”

“I haven't found a nice apartment yet! What do you want me to do?” and he throws up his hands in frustration. “And it's not so bad, okay? The place is spotless, like, all the time--”

Richie stares at him speechless, and Eddie avoids maintaining eye-contact. "You're so fucking dumb, live with me!"

“What?” then he does look at him. “No, I can't live with you!”

This is exactly why he didn't want to tell neither Richie or Bill. He knew they'd make a fuss about it, and he knew they'd probably offer him to stay at their place. And he didn't want anyone to pity him, he didn't want to be a burden in anyone's life.

Richie grabs his arm to make him look at him. "Listen to me, you dumb cunt. Tomorrow morning, you're packing all your shit into your stupid big-ass suitcases, and you're coming straight to my flat. If you don't, I'll hunt you down and end you."

Eddie stays still, looking up at Richie with wide, round eyes, and the only thing he manages to say is, “I don't know where your flat is”

"I'll send you my location" Richie replies, relief washes over him. Then it hits him. The sudden and obvious realization that he just invited Eddie to live with him. _EDDIE_. And he has said ‘ _yes’_.

***

The moment Richie gets home, he pulls out his phone.

"Stan? Listen, man. I did something."

A sleepy groan comes from the other end of the line. "Richie? It's 5am... This better be about murder or I'm murdering you."

"Ok, listen to me and pay attention." Meanwhile he hears Stan humming. "Bill, Eddie and I went to a gay bar, to see if I got lucky and shit but it obviously didn't work because Eddie was there and--"

"I'm completely lost here. It starts like a joke. Is this a joke? I think I'm dreaming."

"I said listen, so shut up and let me do the talking. I came out to them a couple of weeks ago. Didn't say _that_ part to Eddie, though." He clears his throat. "Point is, I walked him home, he took my glasses off and made me walk clinging onto him, not that I minded anyway, and then we reached his house, right?"

A tired sigh comes from the phone. "Right."

Richie makes a noise. "Incorrect! Because he was staying at a hotel, like a fucking idiot! So I went and told him he could live with me. And he accepted. So he's coming tomorrow and I'm going to live with him."

"Rich, you know I love you but that's about the worst thing you could've done to yourself, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not about to tell him I changed my mind, man. Even If I could, I wouldn't." He's been pacing around the room.

"Right, but I'm assuming you know this won't end well... Wait a minute, Eddie accepted living with you?"

Richie frowns. "Yeah, what of it?"

Stan is quiet for a few seconds. "I-- I don't know. It seems off. I mean, I know he's having a hard time and all but, now that he's been found out, I'd assume he'd go to Bill's. His house is bigger and, probably, a lot cleaner."

"Hey, fuck you!" Richie bites back.

"And what was that about taking off your glasses...?"

"I joked about his mom loving my dick and he did that as punishment, but that's not the point of the story, man. I'm having a gay panic attack and you're not helping! I called you for a reason!"

He can hear Stan's voice muffled by what he assumes is the pillow. "To wake me up at 5am, that's why... Rich, go to sleep. It's not as bad as you think it is. I have a good feeling about this, k? Uris out."

***

It’s been almost an hour since Richie left home, but Eddie hasn’t gone to bed yet. He had undressed, hanged his suit and taken a shower before slipping into his pyjamas. He lies now in bed, tucked in, and checking his phone. His tipsiness has started to wash off after coming into contact with the cold air of the street and now, it was mostly gone. He scrolls down instagram until his eyelids start feeling heavy and his phone slips from his hand.

Then he drifts off, and all of a sudden he's at the wedding reception. He's talking to Richie. Or Richie is talking to him. He's not sure. But there's talking involved even though he can't quite make out the words.

He looks at the guests dancing, and back at Richie, who is saying something about being lonely, and old, and gay. And Eddie frowns, because it doesn't feel right, the timing doesn't feel right. But he reaches over anyway, because he wants to comfort him, wants to tell him everything will be alright, and places a hand in his knee, squeezing only just. Eddie looks for Richie's reaction, anything that'll say ‘ _what are you doing? fuck off’_ , that'll make him back off, but it doesn't come. So he moves his hand up in the direction of his thigh and strokes. He feels like he's done this before and he waits for Richie to tell him something, because he is supposed to say something. What was it? What was Richie supposed to say? Oh, yes, Richie is going to say ‘ _Eds, you're very touchy when you're drunk, you know that?_ ” So Eddie waits, and Richie does say that, but then he adds, ‘ _I like it’_. And that prompts him to move his hand upwards-- even more. Richie tenses, all of him, and Eddie's hand keeps on moving, determined in its advances, until it reaches Richie's hard-on. Richie gasps, so he takes that as a ‘ _keep going_ ’ and tightens his hand around it through the fabric, brushing its length with his thumb. Richie’s hips jerk in response, searching for some friction, contact, anything.

Then they're not at the hotel ballroom anymore, they're in the club toilets, and Eddie is grabbing Richie by the suspenders of his stupid man-of-honor suit and pinning him against the door of one of the stalls, Richie throws his head back in reaction, so Eddie rolls his hips and rubs his erection against Richie’s. That gets him a groan that comes straight from the back of Richie’s throat. 

Neck exposed as it is, Eddie can see Richie swallow hard, and he feels the sudden urge to bite in that spot right below his jaw. So he does, and then runs his tongue over it.

His hands are struggling to unbutton Richie’s stupid shirt, focused as he is in grinding their hips together. But then Richie puts some distance between them, and Eddie can’t do nothing but grunt in response. 

Richie looks bewildered, all messy hair and glassy eyes, but manages to say in a raspy voice _’Inside’_. So Eddie pushes him into the stall and clashes their lips together for the first time. It’s rough, and messy, and Richie is moaning right into his mouth, which is only making things harder. 

Eddie removes Richie’s suspenders in one quick motion and unzips his pants.

“Take them off”

It’s a command and Richie happily obliges. 

When they’re off, Eddie looks down at Richie’s underwear, which can barely contain his boner. So he does what Richie should’ve done, he pulls down his underwear and frees his erection, then digs his nails on his hips and pulls him closer, Richie’s hip thrusting in reaction. 

Their foreheads are pressed together, so Eddie can see how Richie’s lips part when he shoves a hand between his legs and grips his cock. He groans when Eddie’s hand starts sliding up and down his length at a painfully slow rhythm, and he can’t help but thrust his hips again.

“Be still” Eddie breathes into his mouth.

So he is, as still as he can be, biting at his lower lip so hard it might start bleeding. Eddie smiles teasingly, looks at him and says. “Good boy”, and then speeds up the rhythm of his hand.

It’s so hot, seeing Richie come undone because of him; eyes pressed together, flushing cheeks, heavy breaths and biting back moans even thought Eddie just told him to be still, not quiet. But it’s not enough. Eddie’s cock twitches, asking for attention, and he rolls up his hips involuntarily. Richie notices, so he opens his eyes to look at him, and his eyes are asking for permission. Permission to unzip his pants, to release him, to touch him. Eddie grants it with a nod, and Richie’s hands reach for his zipper. They’re quivering, because Eddie hasn’t stopped jerking him, but he manages to undo it, before slipping a hand inside and cupping Eddie’s erection. 

Tilting his head back, Eddie lets out a groan, “fuck”. But Richie’s hand doesn’t move, it just stays there, waiting.

“Fucking do something” he says, as he lurches into his hands. 

Richie nods frantically and waits for Eddie to look at him before sinking into his knees. He pulls his pants all the way down and runs his tongue along his erection through the fabric of his underwear. Eddie whimpers. It’s not enough. _It’s not fucking enough_. Richie takes the hint and makes his way to Eddie’s waistband, pulling down the underwear with his teeth, and using his hands to take them off completely. 

Now that they’re gone, Richie kisses his way up from his inner thigh, running his tongue along his length again, but this time, nothing is in the way. Eddie’s knees buckle when Richie’s tongue circles around his tip before taking him into his mouth. And he’s not holding back. At all. 

“Rich…”

It feels warm, and wet, and like anything he’s felt before. Richie takes him whole, bobbing his head up and down, pulling away every few times to just lick at the tip. Eddie tugs his hair, making Richie pull back and look at him. Richie’s lip turn into a conceited smile when their eyes lock. It’s obscene, how swollen Richie’s lips are, how darkened are his eyes.

“I’m gonna-- If you keep going like that…”

But Richie cuts him off. “I want you to fuck my mouth”

And Eddie cries out, he actually does. “Fuck, Richie. Fuck.”

“You want that?” Richie asks, faking innocence.

Eddie nods urgently, and Richie doesn’t wait for any other type of answer. He engulfs him again, and places his hand on top of Eddie’s, the one that is tugging his hair. Eddie understands instantly, and he starts thrusting his hips, holding Richie in place by his head. It’s a slow pace at the beginning, because he's afraid of hurting Richie, but then, as he his orgasm starts to build up, he speeds up his movements and they become erratic when he’s close. So close. 

“Rich, fuck, I’m gonna-- I’m gonna com--”

Then his phone buzzes and Eddie jolts in his bed.

Eddie picks up the phone, his hands are sweaty and he's disoriented. "Edward Kaspbrak speaking."

"Eduardo, where the fuck are you, I sent you my location an hour ago!" Richie's voice comes from the other side of the line.

“I'm-- I'm in bed” he says, rubbing his eyes in a useless attempt to pull himself together. “What time is it?”

"It's 12am, bro. Just let me know when you're coming, I should probably get some groceries, I've been surviving on beer and tacos for a week."

_12am? How the f--_

“I'll be-- I'll be there in two hours, I think. Gotta shower first”

"Alright, see you later, Spaguetti" Richie hangs up.

Eddie sets the phone down, and gets out of the bed. He looks down at his very present, very pulsing hard-on and then his gaze travels to the bathroom. 

Living with Richie it's going to be real fun now.

***

It's not even 2pm and Richie is already exhausted. He had woken up early as fuck after their night out to clean his whole apartment for when Eddie showed up. He had expected him much earlier, especially knowing how much of an early bird he is. After calling him, out of desperation because he didn't know how to occupy his time, he'd gone to get some groceries but now he's back again and he's already put them away. So he sits on his sofa and pointedly looks at the wall in front of him.

That's when the doorbell rings and Richie bolts to his feet. He's not nervous, he's got it all under control.

He walks up to the door and waits for a moment. _Breathe, it's just Eddie. It's just Eddie. He's gonna live here. You might have to learn how to breathe around him._

He opens the door and there he is. "E-duar-do! How's it going, need any help with those monstruosities?"

Eddie looks at him with an unidentified expression.

“I carried them all the way up here, I think I can carry them inside”

Richie ignores him and picks one of his suitcases, dragging it inside. "Nonsense, let me, you're so tiny, you must be exhausted!"

Eddie glares at him. He just glares as Richie takes his luggage and carries it to what Eddie imagines will be his room.

Then, he actually sets foot in the apartment. He looks around and is surprised to find that everything looks almost spotless. He scrunches up his nose and walks around the living room, taking a closer look of what's in it. There's a regular-sized sofa placed in front of a huge TV. Richie's always been a big movie fan, so it makes sense. There are a few bookshelves, but most of them are filled with old comics, some music and a considerable film collection.

The kitchen is in the same, open space. There are no dirty dishes in the sink, but there are some drying in the rack besides it. Eddie grins to himself. H _e made an effort_.

"Eds, come see your room, man, you're not gonna sleep in that sofa!" Richie calls from the other side of the flat.

Eddie follows Richie's voice into the room. “I hear you, dickhead. You don't have to scream your lungs out. Your place is not that big.”

The room isn't too big, but big enough that it fits a king-size bed, a couple of nightstands and a desk. "That's for your laptop, if you have one. I'm assuming you do, unless you've gone full Amish since your divorce." _What the fuck am I saying_.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie frowns, but doesn't have anything better to say. In all honesty, he's currently just looking for ways to get Richie out of this room and lock himself in for a couple of days, until the effect of the _thing that happened_ (that's what he's calling it) wears off.

Richie feels Eddie stiff beside him. "You okay there?" Eddie looks up at him. "If you've changed your mind... Look, I know I'm a lot. And you're a lot, too." He points his finger at Eddie. "And Bill's house is bigger. Because he's stupidly rich. But he's married so that might be weird for her--"

“Shut up, Richie, shut up”, he says as he rubs his eyes. “I haven't changed my mind. I just-- didn't sleep well. I'm tired.”

"You woke up 2 hours ago, what the fuck are you talking about?"

“Oh, so that means that I slept like a baby?” there it goes, all that defensiveness. He tries to tone it down, “I had a nightmare. I woke up and couldn't sleep for a while. That's why I overslept this morning.”

"That sucks. Want a beer? I got nachos. I thought about binge-watching some Tarantino, wanna join me?" he says.

Eddie weighs his options. His brain is telling him to get as much distance as he can between him and Richie, and a movie marathon in that couch it's the opposite of that. But then, he thinks it'd be weird if he declined the offer because he would start asking questions and he can't risk Richie being suspicious. 

“No to the beer. Yes to the movies” he ends up saying.

" _'No to beer?'_ Okay, grandma, I'll go easy on ya", he says as he leaves the room.

They end up watching Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and Django. They order pizza, even though he just brought fresh food because it goes well with movies. And Richie feels... content. Eddie lays on the other side of the couch, their limbs are tangled, like they used to be back in the old hammock days. But he doesn't dare to grab Eddie's ankle. Not yet, at least.

***

Two days after Eddie moves in, things are still awkward. On his part, that is. Richie is either oblivious to this fact or simply doesn't comment on it. Eddie is grateful either way. 

So yeah, _the thing that happened_ is still messing with his brain. And it's not just the dream itself (which should be enough reason), it's what he had to do afterwards. And it's what kept playing in his head while he did it. 

But he can't be held accountable for his actions. He's just a very weak, very touch-starved man. And you can't blame a man for using the very graphic imagery that gave him _this_ problem in the first place to solve it. It's quite reasonable if you think about it.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is Eddie likes women. And he doesn't like men. So, that's the reason why Eddie is setting up a Tinder account. Because he needs to get laid, and he's sure the lack of sex is getting to him; there's no other explanation for all this _thing_. 

He should stop using _thing_ whenever he thinks about the _thing_. It's stupid, and childish, and it makes him look like he's afraid of using slightly sexual terms. Which he isn't. 

His account has been successfully set up. He's added a couple of pictures, one of them taken by Richie during Bev's wedding and the other one taken by Bill at the restaurant where they had lunch two weeks ago. 

Time to start swiping.

 _Small eyes_. Swipes left.

 _Thin lips._ Swipes left.

 _She's got a parrot. Nope._ Swipes left.

 _Weird hair._ Swipes left.

A message shows Eddie someones has super liked him. 

He frowns. He didn't even know that was a thing. He had had to look for the right way to match someone, and he's not familiar with the super likes.

He checks her profile. She seems nice enough. She’s got short, blonde hair, beautiful eyes, cute smile. She's a bit younger than him, but not much. Her first picture is of her sitting in the grass with a Corgi in her lap. The dog looks cute too, at least it's not a pomeranian.

He swipes left anyway.

***

Things get better. Eddie and Richie fall into a routine almost too easily. Eddie cooks, Richie does the dishes. Eddie dusts, Richie sweeps. Eddie does their laundry, Richie makes a fresh pot of coffee every morning. 

It's easy. In fact, Eddie would have expected Richie to be much worse of a roommate, but so far he’s keeping his part of the deal. 

Eddie still feels awkward around him. There's dark cloud over him every time he stands too close to Richie, every time they sit on the sofa after dinner to watch something on Netflix and their limbs become tangled. Eddie had been trying to sit as crouched as possible, but Richie's long legs always found a way to reach him, poking him with his foot.

 _"Eds, you're tiny enough as it is, you can spread your legs a little. I promise you it won't kill you",_ Richie says one night.

So from then on, he does. Because it's not like he can tell Richie that he doesn't want their bodies to touch in the slightest just in case his stupid, stupid brain makes him go through that _thing_ again. He has not had another weird dream since he's been living with Richie and he'd like to keep it that way.

These are all the things that go through his mind while he cooks. There is plenty of time to think when you're cooking. 

He's making pasta today. Water is heating, and sauce is being cooked in the pan, so Eddie cleans up after himself before going back to stir the sauté of onions and tomatoes. When it's almost ready, and water is boiling, Eddie throws the spaghetti in the pot.

Suddenly, he hears Richie's voice from behind him. "Eds, we need to talk". Eddie stiffens like he hasn't in years, but it catches him by surprise, so he turns around without even letting it sink in. 

Then a blast of water hits him in the face and he splutters as Richie cackles maliciously in victory. "I'm sorry, Eds, this city isn't big enough for the two of us." He hears him say, and before he's had time to rub his eyes and look, another squirt meets his face.

"Richie, fucking stop!" he snaps. "Fucking asshole! What is that--" When he opens his eyes, Richie is holding a mini water-gun, as he hands him another one.

Eddie takes it. His gaze goes from Richie to the gun, and then back to Richie, “I'm not fucking doing a water gun fight with you, Ri--” but his words are cut off but yet another blast of water. 

Eddie glares at Richie, water dripping down his face, “I'm gonna end you, Tozier.”

Richie smiles widely before turning around and going for the sofa, leaping over it to take cover. Eddie quickly follows and hides by the back of the sofa. He sticks out his water gun and squirts, hoping it'll hit Richie, but there's no answer from the other side, no complaining, no swearing, no nothing. So he gets on his knees and looks over the sofa, but he's not there. 

A blast of water surprises him from the side, and he snaps his head towards it, finding Richie walking on his knees and laughing. He then rapidly gets to his feet and runs away to his room. Eddie finds him quickly enough and this time he doesn't bother to find cover, he goes straight to him and squirts him on the face. They do that for a while, shooting water at each other and completely forgetting about the food.

When they plop down back on the sofa with their soaking wet shirts, trying to breathe normally again after all the laughing, Eddie feels his heart burst in his chest. He feels young, he feels like a kid again. He often does when he's around Richie, especially when they push each other's buttons and do silly things like fighting with water guns (or getting married in Las Vegas).

“Weren’t you cooking something?” Richie asks, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh, fuck, THE SAUTÉ!”

But it's too late. The pasta is overcooked and the sauté is all burned, so they end up throwing it out and ordering chinese. 

It looks like things are finally getting back on track.

***

The doorbell rings when Eddie is carrying their dirty clothes from the laundry basket to do a wash. It must be Richie, he must've forgotten his keys again. He usually does that, at least since Eddie lives with him. So he's already muttering something like ‘ _I can't fucking believe he fucking forgot his keys again, he's an actual child and should not be trusted with adult stuff’_. Then the doorbell rings again and, letting out an exasperated sigh, he quickly drops the clothes on the sofa on his way to the door.

He doesn't expect what meets him on the other side.

A man. A familiar man is at his doorstep. About his height, younger, short dark hair. Feminine. He immediately knows where he remembers him from: _the gay bar_. This is the man who was talking to Richie. Richie, who wrote something on a card this man gave him.

"Good morning. I'm looking for Richie Tozier." He says, and Eddie is sure he is not imagining the guy's disdainful look on him.

Eddie frowns, defensiveness taking over him. “And you are?”

“Travis Jones", the guy replies and takes a step inside, forcing Eddie to take a step back. "Richie arranged a meeting with me today, is he home? We have much to discuss, I do not wish to waste his time nor mine."

He looks this Travis guy up and down. He exudes nothing but smugness, and Eddie wonders how wrong is to tell someone you just met to _get the fuck out_ with a kind smile.

“He's not home” and then immediately after, in a voice that sounds filled with annoyance he says. “Why are you here? Richie didn't tell me anyone was coming.”

Travis looks at his surroundings, like he's about to say something about their decorative skills and it won't be a compliment. "Like I said, we had a meeting. Business meeting. I'm his new employer, or I was going to be. I believe he's had a rough time ever since he came out publicly, has he not?"

“He hasn't-- he hasn't had the best last weeks, no”, he says cautiously, pursing his lips afterwards. “And he told you to meet him here.”

It's not really a question, even though it expects an answer.

"Yes, I believe that's what I said. Who are you?"

He fucking hates this guy. ‘ _Who are you?’_ he mimics in his head _I'm the one who fucking lives here._

“I'm Eddie”, he says with a fake smile and holding out his hand, “I live with Richie.”

He could have said they were roommates, but he chose to keep it ambiguous. Why did he do that? Make it sound like they were more than roommates.

There's a twinkle in Travis' eye as he shakes Eddie's hand. He might've imagined it. "Oh, really? He never mentioned you. Must be pretty recent."

That hurts-- that Richie never mentioned him. But maybe it's just not true, because this guy is so obviously trying to get Eddie out of the way and probably get into Richie's pants himself.

“Yeah, if 27 years sounds recent to you, then yes. It's pretty recent” 

He doesn't know where all this need for marking territory comes from, but he wants to make this guy sit down, and then explain to him step by step how much he knows about Richie. All the small details that this Travis guy could never now. And that Eddie knows. _Ha._

But that's when Richie comes out of the elevator, right behind Travis, carrying 4 bags of groceries. "Oh, fuck! It was _today_ , shit, man. I'll be with you in a minute, okay? I'm so sorry!" Richie all but throws two bags at Eddie, and puts the other two on the floor. "Please, come on in. Wanna drink something? Come with me" Richie says as he accompanies Travis into the living-room, leaving Eddie at the entrance

He stands there, mouth agape, holding the bags Richie gave him, and glancing down at the other two bags that now rest on the floor. He picks the other two bags, and then takes them all to the kitchen counter before putting the groceries away. All of these actions accompanied by Eddie muttering under his breath: ‘ _Hello Eddie. How are you?’,_ and then answering himself, ‘ _Hi Rich, I'm fine. How are you?’_

They never have conversations like that, but a sudden wave of anger invades him when he remembers how Richie rushed to meet this guy. So he slams the door to the cabinet, which has both Richie and Travis looking at him from the sofa, and he storms out as he heads to his room.

It's about 20 minutes later when he hears Richie opening and closing the front door and a " _Yes!_ " is happily exhaled, followed by Richie's steps towards his room. He opens the door without even knocking. "We're having Italian for dinner, Eddie Spaghetti, I got a show in two weeks. TREAT YO'SELF!"

***

Richie's been doing fine for the past week. He's been preparing new material for the gig on Friday, it's all his and it sound actually quite good from what Eddie's been able to hear. He hasn't tried out with him yet, and Eddie doesn't know if he will, but he's been doing okay. Doesn't look too nervous about it, doesn't look too insecure either. 

They eat dinner together as usual. Richie asks him about his job, Eddie asks him about the gig, but doesn't ask about Travis. He still thinks he's an asshole, but he got Richie a show and he looks very excited about it so he says nothing. But he's jealous, painfully so, plain and simple. He doesn't like this guy spending time with Richie, he doesn't like him looking down on him like he's nothing. Like he's replaceable. But what he dislikes the most is how Richie acts around him, bouncing around like a puppy.

They finish dinner and Richie takes care of the dishes. It's been a long day for Eddie, so he excuses himself and goes to his room.

It's not long before he falls asleep, and it's also not long before all the screaming wakes him up. Still dazzled and sleepy, it takes him a while to figure out what they're saying. Then it becomes clear.

_EDDIE!_

Over and over again, and something else he can't fully understand, coming from Richie's room. He gets off the bed with a jolt, and grabs his bedside lamp in the spur of the moment, scared someone might have broken in. So he walks, careful and steady, even though his heart is racing, so as not to be heard.

_It’s fine. You've defeated a killer clown. You got this._

On his way to the room he perceives nothing suspicious, but Richie is still screaming and it's scaring the shit out of him. And calmness goes out the window. Eddie swings the door open, still holding the lamp and ready to bash the intruder’s head with it. 

He doesn't find an intruder though. Just Richie, sitting up in his bed and screaming his lungs out.

 _EDDIE! EDDIE! EDDIE! NO!_

And then sobbing.

_Eds, please_

Eddie closes his distance to the bed and leaves the lamp at the end of it as he sits beside him. "Rich, what's wrong?"

But Richie keeps screaming his name, biting the word like it's painful. That’s when Eddie notices his eyes are closed. _He's asleep_.

He places a hand on his shoulder. "Rich, wake up, Rich, come on, buddy, look at me." He shakes Richie softly as to not scare him more than he's already. "Richie, look at me. Rich, I'm here!"

Richie opens his eyes, glassy, as tears stream down his face. And with Eddie's name still on his tongue, his eyes search. They can't focus yet but they roam Eddie's face, like he's not fully awake and doesn't know what's real and what isn't. 

His other hand cups his nape. "That's it, that's it. I'm here. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all alright, it's gone. We killed it. I'm fine." That's when Richie meets his eyes.

"Eds?" He says, his voice broken. His throat is going to hurt tomorrow.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. See? I'm fine." He says as calmly as he can, like he’s talking to a child, even though his heart is beating so hard he might die in a minute.

Richie falls forward, his forehead against the crook of his neck. His fingers weakly hold onto Eddie's t-shirt on the back. And, as big as Richie actually is, he seems so small at this moment. " _Eds... Eds..._ " He cries softly, his voice cracking.

Eddie wraps his arms around him and holds him. His back is sweaty, and his chest is heaving as he tries to even out his breathing. He's still sobbing, and he's definitely getting Eddie's pyjama t-shirt all wet with tears. And he doesn't mind. Not one bit. 

As Eddie’s shot of adrenaline washes off, sleepiness takes over him again, but in his defense, he’s been woken up in the middle of the night by terrifying screams. His eyes feel heavy, and his sleepy self can’t help but take in Richie’s smell as he buries his nose in his hair, a mixture of sweat and chamomile. He’s been using Eddie’s shampoo. He’s so sleepy, he could fall asleep just like this. He sniffs again, filling his lungs with Richie’s scent, and feels the sudden urge to press his lips against the crook of his neck. 

He almost does, but then he realizes what he’s about to do and stops himself. _What are you doing, Eddie?_

“It's fine, Rich. I'm here. I'm here", he softly says against his hair. "But I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Richie does but says nothing, he tugs at Eddie's T-shirt and breathes him in, as if looking for reassurance. "Fuck, Eds..." He whispers.

Eddie shushes him, moving his hand up to his nape and stroking his hair. “I know.”

They stay like that until Richie’s breathing becomes even and he loosens his hold on Eddie. And Eddie pulls back just enough to meet his eyes; they're red, and puffy, and glassy from all the crying. 

_‘I want to kiss you’,_ he thinks, bewildered _‘Fuck, why do I want to kiss you? I want to kiss you so badly’._

And it shocks him as much as it scares him, because that right there is the moment he realises something that had been hiding in plain sight, that has been manifesting in so many different ways since Derry that is unbelievable he hasn't realised before. 

He loves Richie, he loves him in a way he can't grasp, in a way he hasn't loved anyone before.

“Do you wanna go the the living room? I'll make you an infusion”, he says, quietly, trying to swallow down his realisation. “Do you want that, Rich?”

Richie nods, sniffing.

“Okay then” Eddie smiles softly, “come on, buddy.”

Richie sits on the couch the moment he enters the living room and looks up the ceiling, letting his neck bend over the edge of the couch. He can't think properly. He isn't sure this is real after all. He could be asleep, and Eddie being dead could be reality. 

He covers his eyes and swallows, memories of his nightmare fading away. And yet, the sensations are still vivid as ever. He can still feel Eddie's warm blood on his skin and clothes, the stench of death surrounding him and Eddie's lifeless body in his arms.

Eddie comes back with the infusion shortly after, setting down the mug on the table next to the sofa. 

Richie sits up, letting Eddie enough space to sit down with him on the sofa. He does, but instead of sitting on the other end, he sits right by his side, criss-crossing his legs and facing Richie.

“So…” he starts, carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”

"I'd rather forget about it, if you don't mind, but-- you know, it's kinda funny that we forgot so much back then and now that It's over we can't..." He trails off and his voice is distant. He meets Eddie's eyes. "I'm sorry I woke you up, by the way... This used to happen a lot... when I got back from Derry. You know, contrary to popular belief being caught in the deadlights is not a fun experience. I'll give it a 2/5 on TripAdvisor."

“You're lucky you still look like a mess or I would hit you right now”, he says, and he sounds sort of offended. “Don't apologize for that. Ever. Okay?”

Richie seems dubious but Eddie fixes him with a threatening look and he ends up nodding in agreement.

“Okay. Good” Eddie says, content. “Why didn't you tell us this was happening?”

Richie shrugs. "What for?"

“What for?!” Eddie repeats in disbelief. “Because we could have done something to help you, asshole. We care about you. I care about you”, he says, and tones down. “I didn't know what was happening, it scared the shit out of me, Rich. I want to know about things like this. I want to help. Wouldn't you like to help if it was the other way around?”

' _I'd do anything for you_ ' crosses Richie's mind, but he wouldn't admit it out loud. "I know, I know. But it's just this, nightmares, it's not like it can physically hurt me, so… Bev knew. She's had these dreams all this time, there's nothing we can do about it."

“But It's messing with your head, Rich" Eddie says. "Maybe you should see someone. Both of you."

Richie laughs bitterly and drinks from his cup. "Right, I'll just tell them about the alien clown and all that crap. I'm sure they won't lock me up."

“You can make something up. I'll help you with that”, he says, then pats him on the knee and leaves his hand there. Richie glances down at it. “But I'll stop nagging you about it now, because you told me you didn't want to talk about it and I ignored you” and leans over to grab the TV remote. “Let's watch something, okay?”

Eddie's hand feels warm on his leg. "I'm fine, I-- I think I'm gonna go to bed. You should, too. It's pretty late."

Richie gets up and pats Eddie on the shoulder. "Good night, Eds."

“Goodnight, Rich” Then, before Richie leaves the room he adds, “you better let me know if something’s wrong.” 

Richie nods, smiling, and heads for his room.

Eddie stays there even when Richie is gone, blankly staring at the wall and processing. It's too much. Richie and his night terrors, and himself, finding the reason to all this ‘ _I need to be near him’_ thing that had been going on. 

He needs to talk to Bill. Like, right now. But it's 4am and he's a reasonable man. So he'll do that tomorrow.

Yeah, tomorrow is fine. Completely fine.

But for now, he’ll delete his Tinder account. There’s no point for it anymore.

***

He calls Bill first thing after leaving the apartment. He hadn't had any sleep after what happened to Richie. 

Bill is surprised to get a call so early in the morning, but Eddie sounds restless, so he immediately agrees to meet with him later that afternoon.

He had been everything but productive at work. He was so out that even Karen, who is famous for his unawareness to the world that surrounds her, had pointed it out to him.

But now he's at the café where Bill and him agreed to meet and he's a little less anxious. He's only tapping like a fucking mad man on the table, so that's something.

He's casually staring out the window when Bill approaches his table. "Hey, man, it's good to see you" he says as they greet each other with one of those bro hugs, and sit facing the other. "So, what's up with you? You seemed off on the phone.”

“Off? Nah, I'm not off”, he says casually.

Bill arches and eyebrow but leaves it there. They order coffee and Bill gets a cinnamon roll.

“So… how was the tour, Big Bill?” He says, and closes his eyes in regret. _Big Bill? You never call him Big Bill, dickwad._

Bill swallows a mouthful of roll. "Pretty g-good, many fans, many critics... but overall, good enough. They seemed t-t-to...uh...get the feeling I kill too many gay characters... so I have to work on that for next bo-bo-book, I guess"

“That's good”, he nods one, two, three times, then sips at his coffee. “Gay characters, yeah. You gotta work on that”, he swallows hard. “Richie told you.”

He had been waiting the whole night and day for this moment and now that Bill is before him, he cannot for the life of him start the fucking conversation.

Bill smiles at him. "How's Richie, by the way? You've been living t-t-together and all, is he as terrible as y-you'd expect?”

“To everyone's surprise, he's not that terrible. Living together has been… good. Yeah, better than I could have expected.” 

“Who wuh-would have thought, huh?”

“Yeah, I know. He got a gig, you know? That… that guy from the bar. He's a public relations. He's an asshole, but he’s also a public relations”

Bill coughs into his coffee. "He's an asshole? Why? What happened?"

“I don't know, he just is. Sometimes you can just tell if someone is an asshole”, he says, but then reconsiders. “Actually, no, I know why he's an asshole. He's smug, looks down on people, looks angry all the time, he's so obviously trying to get into Richie's pants…”

And Bill just shrugs as he has another bite of his roll. "P-p-people in the showbizz are usually assholes, or t-they pretend to be. Very c-co-competitive... and this is LA after all." He leaves the last bite on his place. "Was Richie un-uncomfortable with him? That could be c-c-considered sexual harassment at the workplace..."

“He's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. He bounces around him like a puppy."

Bill chuckles. "Well, as long as it doesn't bother him". He sips from his cup. "Maybe something c-c-could come out of it eventually. And if they end up getting m-m-married, I'll take all the credit. It was my idea to go to that gay bar", he says proudly.

Eddie chokes on his coffee and spills some. “What? They're not gonna get married. The guy's an asshole, I just told you, Bill. Keep up.”

He takes a napkin and cleans the spilled coffee, then looks up to Bill. “You really think they could… date or something?”

Bill has his last bite of roll and he's enjoying it. "Richie isn't... dating anyone, r-right? And you say t-t-this guy is interested?" He lays back in his seat and looks at Eddie. "M-maybe, I guess it depends on... what he's looking for, right? Why?"

“He's an asshole, Bill.”

“Yeah, you keep s-s-saying” he says, smiling.

“I don't want Richie to date an asshole.”

Bill laughs softly. "N-N-No one wants that. Maybe you guys... got on with the wrong foot? We all want the b-b-best for him, after what he's gone through. And, m-m-maybe no one will be good enough, but we have to trust his choices."

“Richie can't be trusted to make wise choices” Eddie says. “Last time he was left with that responsibility he overfed the neighbor's cat because he thought she’d be smart enough to ration her food, and she spent two days vomiting.”

Bill just looks at him, and Eddie needs to get this out of his chest. If he keeps dancing around it, it's going to give him a heart attack. 

“I had a dream” he blurts out before he can overthink it.

"Th-that sounds v-very ominous" Bill says, suddenly tensing.

“It was a weird fucking dream, dude. Richie was in it. And I thought-- I thought it meant nothing. Thought it was a one time thing, because it hadn't happened again. So it was just silly, y’know? A silly thing my brain did, but--” 

_Stop rambling, you always ramble_. So he shuts his mouth and waits for Bill to say something.

Bill leans on the table, frowning. "W-w-was it about-- _IT_? W-what's wrong, man? I d-d-don't understand, what does this have to do with--"

“No, no. It's not about _it_ ” Eddie says as he shakes his head off, and swallows hard. Again. “It was about-- about…Richie and I-- We--”

How is he supposed to say this out loud if he hasn't even been able to think it?

“Fuck. This is fucking hard, man.”

Bill looks at him quizzically.

“It was a wet dream, okay?” he admits, and he sounds almost mad at Bill. “There. I said it. We had sex. In my dream. Well, I didn't… but, yeah, that's-- that happened. In a dream. While I was sleeping. The night we went to the bar.”

Bill chuckles. 

"What are you laughing at?! It's not funny!"

"A little bit" Bill shrugs. "You went to a g-g-gay bar and had a wet dream about a friend, who j-j-just came out of the closet and that was there with you. I mean, I... wouldn't tell Richie, you won't see the e-end of it, but I'd say it's a... possible reaction to what we experienced that night" he chuckles again.

“That's what I thought! That's what I fucking thought, Bill!” Eddie says, waving his hands. “It took a couple of days for me to be able to look him in the eye, which I guess it's reasonable given the circumstances. But then it went away. No more… weird dreams. Just like that.” he takes another sip at his coffee, the last one. “And everything was fine until that Travis guy came into the picture. And I can't stand him, he's an asshole--” 

Bill rolls his eyes in response.

“But that's not what bothers me” he looks down at his empty coffee. “It's the fact that Richie likes him so much.”

"What are you saying, exactly?"

“You know what I'm saying”, he looks up at Bill again, meeting his gaze. “Don't make me say it”

Bill clears his throat. "Sounds like you're j-j-jealous" he adds, helpfully, but it almost sounds like a question.

“Great observational skills” he says, smiling bitterly.

"You're jealous" Bill states, and he shifts in his seat as he puts his thoughts into words. "But you're-- the dream bo-bo-bothered you, you weren't into it. But you... don't want Richie to date this Travis-guy. I-- Eddie, this makes y-y-you look like the asshole..."

“I didn't say I wasn't into it”

Bill stares at him for a few seconds in silence and suddenly, the cafe's music, like those you find in elevators, seems loud. 

They stare at each other for the longest minute as Bill's facial expression goes through every step of the realization process. "A-a-are you t-telling me you're into Richie?"

“Oh my god,” Eddie lets out an exasperated breath, “how are you so thick. Yes, fuck, yes. That's what I'm trying to fucking tell you. Have been for the past half an hour.”

Bill's eyes are about to abandon his head altogether. "Oh. _Oh_. Wow... W-w-what are you going to do?"

“The fuck do I know, Bill?” his hands start getting fidgety again. “I can't do anything, can I? I just gotta live with that and hope I'm able to not be fucking weird around him so I won't fuck up our friendship.”

Bill frowns but he's holding back a smirk. "Actually... I... You don't thi-thi-think Richie might be interested?"

"Interested in what?" he frowns, confused.

"You and him. As an item."

“Yeah, that's funny" he laughs, then takes in Bill's face. "Oh, you're serious. Are you fucking out of your mind, Bill? He doesn't-- Just because he's gay that doesn't mean-- anything”. Eddie sighs, rubs his eyes. “This conversation is going terribly”

Bill drinks the rest of his coffee. "It's just... that I reckon I c-c-caught him checking you out" he chuckles, finding the whole thing very amusing, "your--um, your a-ass in particular.”

Eddie chokes on his own saliva, but manages to get the words out. “What are you talking about?”

Bill's amused expression doesn't help the knot in Eddie's throat. "When we were p-playing pool, you bent over the table and he-- he just _looked_. He realized I saw it and... loo-looked all embarrassed. But maybe it wasn't like that, I don't know, Eddie."

He opens his mouth. “He really--” then closes, and opens it again. “But you don't know if-- fuck, Bill. What am I-- What am I supposed to do with that?”

Eddie is not freaking out. Eddie? Freaking out? Nuh-huh. Nope. This is just normal erratic breathing. Nothing a good old puff from his inhaler couldn't fix.

Bill raises his hands defensively. "I-I-I-I know what I saw, but I don't know what was going through his head at the moment." He explains. This doesn't exactly calm Eddie down, and he knows it, so he leans in. "Is this-... Is this just a physical thing or--?"

Eddie puts the palms of his hands on the table, as if trying to find something steady. Then closes his eyes, huffing out a laugh and looking back at Bill. “No. It's not just a physical thing.”

And it's the first thing he's been able to say without stumbling on the words.

Bill smiles at him and Eddie feels like throwing his empty cup at him. 

"So, are you going t-t-to make a move? Look at us, I feel like a teenager again. I'm excited for you."

Eddie grimaces. “Shut up, Bill! I don't know what I'm gonna-- I'm not gonna do anything. I can't risk my friendship with Richie. I just can't. And I'm living with him, do you know how awkward that'd be?” he shakes his head off. “No, no. It's better if things just stay the way they are.”

It's fine. Everything's fine. He can live with that.

***

Monday afternoon Eddie gets caught up in work. Work he should've have finished last Friday. But last Friday, he was too busy having a ‘ _you’re in love with your male best friend’_ crisis. 

It's late when he gets home, not that he minds. Richie will be already sprawled out on the sofa after dinner, probably watching some Golden Girls reruns. Eddie is thankful for that, he's way too tired to deal with the domesticity of having dinner together after a long day. It's too couple-y, and that's not what they are. 

Getting home and making some instanoodles for himself before going into your room sounds more like ‘ _things that roommates do_ ’.

He does find Richie on the couch. "About time, man, I'm fucking starving here" Richie says, casually, as he gets up. "I ordered Mexican, hope you don't mind."

“You haven't eaten?” Eddie says surprised, then checks the time on his watch, confirming that, in fact, is very late.

Richie moves to the table and starts unpackaging their food and laying the table. "Waited for you, man, I didn't see you all day. It felt wrong..." he stops and gets closer to him. 

He smells around Eddie and Eddie pokes him in the side. "Would you stop that?! The fuck are you doing?"

"You don't smell like sex, you must be being enslaved then. Hope it's worth the pay, though."

Eddie rolls his eyes at him, then moves away to set the table. _Keep your distance, Eddie_.

“I had some backlog from Friday that needed to be sorted out today.”

"Boooooring, let's eat. By the way, it's Mexican, you know what that means: later tonight, this is going to be Chernobyl."

“First of all, disgusting” he says, making a pout of disgust. “And you know spicy food doesn't agree with me. You trying to end me, dickwad?”

Richie points his finger at him. "Which is why I got yours non-spicy, you little turd!"

“You got... mine non-spicy” he nods, taken aback. “Uhh, I’m… Thanks”

"You got it", he says before taking a huge bite at his burrito.

Eddie looks at him as he does, and there’s instantly some chipotle and green salsa sauce running down the corner of his lips and into Richie's stubble. 

“Learn how to fucking eat, asshole!” 

Richie smiles at him goofily, mouth full and all, and Eddie drops his gaze, huffing out a laugh. _Why do I like you so much?_

***

Tuesday is much better. Richie's gig is only three days away, and even though he insists he's not nervous about it, Eddie doesn't believe him for a second. 

He leaves work on time, and heads home. It's not like he can actually help Richie with his stand-up, but he can at least be supportive and be there for him if he needs him.

Richie hasn't let him listen to any of the new material he'd been preparing for the show on Friday, that's why it takes him by surprise when he steps through the door and Richie asks: “Can I do a run-through with you?”

Eddie says yes, of course. He's been wanting Richie to ask him since he had it all written down and ready to memorize. Listening to him practice in the privacy of his room, while Eddie laid back in bed and tried to catch some of what he was saying.

“Thanks, man”

Richie pushes him down by the shoulders and makes him sit on the sofa. He stands in front of him, scratching the palms of his hands.

“It's gonna be fine, Rich”

He nods, “Yeah, okay. I'm gonna-- I'm gonna start now”

Eddie nods back, and his lips curve into a smile.

He doesn't look at Eddie at first, but as he starts getting comfortable he does, and ends up doing it just for him. 

It's funny, it really is. Not that Eddie didn't think Richie was funny, he knows he is. He just pretends he's not because it annoys him.

“So…” Richie says, rubbing the back of his head. “What do you think?” then grimaces. “It's terrible, isn't it? Fuck, I haven't written my own jokes in forever--”

Eddie shushes him. “Richie, no, shut up. It's good.”

“It is?” he says, suspicious.

“Yes, it is. I'd tell you if it were shit, wouldn't I?”

Richie nods, smiling, “Yeah, you would”

“It's very funny” he says, reassuringly. “You're gonna do great, Rich”

But he can't help the tightness in his chest as he looks at his friend.

***

On Wednesday, Eddie arrives home a little earlier, about half an hour. He closes the door behind him and makes his presence known with a simple greeting into the flat, but no one answers. Perhaps Richie went out to get something? Maybe dinner? Maybe he had a date. And Eddie would lie if he said that idea didn't make his heartbeat have a peak. But then he hears someone humming. Richie is home.

He walks up to the laundry toom, which has the door open wide, and finds Richie in his boxers and socks, wearing a hideous old yellow T-shirt. He's got headphones on and is now singing 'Toxic' by Britney Spears at the top of his lungs as he hangs up the washing.

His back is facing Eddie, and Eddie realises Richie doesn't know he's looking. He tries very hard not to look at Richie's ass but eventually allows himself a peek right before Richie turns around and his eyes shoot up to Richie's face, who jumps with a scream. His headphones almost fall off. And then as he regains his breathing, he asks. "How long have you been there, asshole?"

Eddie chuckles. "Long enough, dickwad"

***

On thursday, Eddie takes a shower as soon as he gets from work. He usually does it before going to bed, but today, Karen had been messing with the heating and he had ended up feeling all sweaty and sticky, so he needs to get that sensation off his body right away.

He hears the doorbell ring when he's inside, and someone speaking with Richie when he steps out of the shower. 

The bathroom is right next to the living room, so it's not hard for Eddie to listen closely as he dries his hair. 

He recognises the voice of the other man instantly. _The asshole_. He tenses up in reaction. That nearly forgotten jealousy building up in his stomach and spreading out to the rest of his body.

“Feeling confident about tomorrow?” he asks Richie.

"Yeah, man, I think so. Been working hard in my own material for once. A couple of jokes are risky but I think it'll work out."

“I'm sure it will. I have a good eye for that.”

Eddie snorts.

“So, listen, Rich”

_Rich? Who gave this fucking guy the right to call him Rich?_

“I was thinking…” 

And his voice is so clearly flirty. He can't see him but he _knows_ he's getting closer to Richie, probably laying a hand on his arm, and Eddie's blood boils.

“We could go grab a bite” he says, “Talk about tomorrow, y’know...”

"Uhh--" Richie says, intelligently. "Sorry, I had plans with Eddie."

Eddie frowns, but then smiles. _Is he turning him down?_

“With Eddie, huh?” but then goes on to say, with a pout. “But you see Eddie everyday.”

"Yeah" Richie mutters, and he lowers his voice a little. Eddie has to press his ear against the door to catch the rest of it. "Look, I'm not good at this? I'm... not interested, sorry", and he can feel Richie grimacing as he says it.

 _He’s fucking turning him down_. Eddie feels he can breathe again, fresh, renovated air coming down his throat and filling up his lungs.

Eddie wants to step out of the bathroom and tell him, mockingly. “He's not interested, asshole.”

And of course, it doesn't mean anything. Not in the way Eddie would like. But at least the weight in his chest has been lifted off for now. Travis can go fuck himself.

“Okay, then” he sounds annoyed. “See you tomorrow”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow” 

As soon as Eddie hears the front door close after Travis, he opens the door to the bathroom and sticks out his head.

“Who was that?” he asks, playing dumb.

"Just Travis, wishing me good luck and all that." Richie says as he plops down on the couch, looking for the remote. "Man, I feel like watching 'The Mummy'"

A wide grin spreads across Eddie’s face. Unable to hold it back, he bites his lower lip to cover it.

“I’ll be there with you in 5”

***

It's Friday, and that means Richie’s gig is today. 

Richie had been pacing around his room, deciding what to wear because he used to have a manager who took care of this. He doesn't anymore.

Eddie had picked one of his shirts, not particularly the less scandalous-- which surprised Richie, and forced him to wear it, rushing him out of the apartment.

They left home with plenty of time to spare, and thank God they did, because they spent half an hour stuck in traffic. 

Now they're here. Eddie is sitting in one of the tables set in the front, while Richie is already backstage-- probably trying not to puke his guts out. 

There have been a good turn up, considering the place is small and Richie hadn't performed in months. Especially after what happened last time he went on a stage. 

But this is not the same. This is a smaller stage, a smaller crowd, and his own material. It's going to be fine, Eddie knows it's going to be fine.

The lights go out, and Eddie feels a rush of adrenaline as he sees Richie walk into the platform.

“Hey there, gay fellas” Eddie face-palms internally. “The name is Richie, as in Richard, obviously. Impressively white name. The whitest name after Mitt Romney and right before Benedict Cumberbatch. We three hang around sometimes, we do white guys’ shit, y’know: pollute lakes, take land from people…”

“You know what’s also done by white people? 9/11” this one was risky but he gets a few laughs and gasps.

“There has to be people who were born on 9/11… and out of that group of people there has to be at least one guy who got up that day and had no idea what was going on, and his friend calls him ‘ _OH MY GOD, DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING TODAY?!_ ’ and he’s like ‘ _YEEEEEEEEES_ ’” this last part he says with an excited gay voice. People laugh at that and Eddie feels himself relax. It’s going fine. He’s doing fine.

“So, there’s no God” people laugh at that too. “And I was thinking about that the other day… how that sucks, uhh— because I was raised in a very religious environment. I didn’t masturbate until I was like 19. I just thought ‘ _the minute you masturbate, you go to hell_ ’. So I remember the night I became an atheist, which is me in bed at night, just rock hard, eyes wide, drowning in sweat.” He makes some gutural breathy noises for emphasis. “‘ _It’s probably bullshit’_ ” he says and starts doing wanking motions as he releases a funny groan as if he just shot his load. The audience laughs and so does he. “That’s how it all happened, man… Here’s the thing, you shouldn’t force shit on anybody, just believe whatever you want.” There’s a loud wave of clapping.

“Like... a week ago, somebody put a picture of a dead baby underneath my windshield wiper, obviously a Christian group. It was an anti-abortion pamphlet. I think… I didn’t check. That’d be weird if it was a pro-abortion pamphlet, like, ‘ _yeeaaahh, dead baby, what do you think, huh? Pretty awesome, right? Interested?_ ’" he says with a high-pitched, almost insane voice. 

“Didn’t even read it, just threw it under my car but I think it said something like ‘ _ABORTION KILLS 3 LIVES EVERY SECOND!!!_ ’ And I remembered that fact: ‘ _A person is born every second_ ’. Are you saying without abortion 4 people would be born every second? Thank God for abortion, I fucking hate people!”

“I was raised with like ‘ _absence-only sex education_ ’, which is probably why I’m fucked up now”, he chuckles. “The idea behind it is that you can’t get pregnant if you don’t have sex. Yes, much in the same way you can cure diarrhea by spackling your asshole shut with wet cement.” He sets a different voice for what he says next. “‘ _Hey, man, how’s that diarrhea going?_ ’” And then another one. “‘ _You know what? It’s all taken care of. My insides are on fire and I’m crying a brown liquid but none of that pesky diarrhea. So, feeling pretty good_ ’.”

“I was raised in a very small town called Derry, very anti-gay, classic USA. But it’s funny because whenever the Catholic church ever comes out against gay people… they always use the same arguments. The most popular is ‘ _it says here they can’t lay with another man_ ’. Yeah, but that doesn’t say ‘ _no butt-fucking_ ’”

Some men in the back cheer at that and Richie stifles a laugh. “Like, I hate to be a stickler for the rules… _link and lawyer, I object_ … but that doesn’t talk about butt-sex. What if God’s just into like rough gay sex, that’s it. That’s all he’s into. Like, the standing 69, that two guys can do where they’re like blowing each other…” and he mimics the position, earning more laughter from the audience. 

“And they’re like: ‘ _is this okay, God?!_ ’ and God’s like ‘ _fuck yeah!_ ’” he says pretending to beat his meat hard and coming. He laughs his ass off afterwards and the crowd cheers.

“You guys were super fun, have a great night and take care of yourselves!”

***

Richie goes straight to the toilet backstage. He's still freaked out even if he managed to hold his persona on stage. He thinks it went well, not that it could go much worse than last time.

His hands are clammy, gripping at the sink. He splashes some water on his face right before pointing a finger at his mirror-self. "You did that, now we drink, gotta find Eddie".

Many fans are waiting for him as he strides into the crowd. He takes a couple of pics and signs a few autographs. Apparently, some of his old fans still like him.

He finds Eddie at the bar, naturally. Eddie, who’s waiting for him with 4 shots in line, two for each of them.

He has a tight-lipped smile on his face and he raises his eyebrows as Richie approaches him.

“See? I told you. They fucking loved you.”

Richie chugs the first shot before responding, the liquor burning his throat. "I hope so, this could be good news for future-me. Trashmouth needed some action. Staying at home everyday was gonna be the end of me, Eds"

Eddie takes one of his shots and downs it as well. He knows he's said he was not going to drink at least 4 times this past month, but this is a special occasion, isn't it?

“Can't wait for you to start bringing in some money so I can stop being you sugar daddy, dickhead”

Richie chuckles but his brain is screaming. "Fuck you! I adopted you into my home and that's how you repay me?! Ungrateful bastard..." he lifts his shot in order to clink their glasses.

"Yeah, I can see now why you invited me into your home" he says with a teasing smile, "so I would pay for stuff, you bloodsucker asshole"

They both down the drinks and lock eyes for a second, making Richie's heart skip a beat. ' _Stop that, you stupid organ_ '.

Eddie clears his throat and drops his gaze to the glass in his hand.

“So how did that feel? Getting back on stage”

"Fucking good, how do you think? I thought my career was over! I could've ended up being... I don't know, a risk analyst!"

Eddie puckers his lips and squints before saying a simple but sharp. “Fuck you.”

He drinks the other shot in one go, then adds, “My boring job put food on your table this morning.”

Richie tilts his head smirking at him, and the act alone is meant to tease but he can't remove the fondness in the way he looks at Eddie. Every single time. He only wishes it's not too obvious. "So what's the plan for tonight, Eddie Spaghetti?"

Eddie looks at him and then quickly looks away. “Hmm, I don't... know. Whatever you want, man. It's your night.”

They stay at the bar little longer, and decide to leave as people start to approach Richie to talk. About what had happened, about his new material, about random things that he didn't know shit about… and they're all mostly drunk, because it's a Friday, this is a bar and they’re all young people.

Richie feels old for this. And besides, he wants to be with Eddie, not surrounded by youths. So he drinks his last shot, sets it down with a thud and says: “Let’s get the fuck outta here”.

They take a cab home. By the time they open the door to their apartment ( _our apartment_ Eddie thinks), the effect of the shots has mostly washed off, but they’re still a bit tipsy. Richie had tricked Eddie into drinking just one more right before leaving.

Richie takes his blazer off and throws it on one of the chairs as he searches into the kitchen cabinets. "Where's the rum, Eds?"

“Right next to the milk-- the fuck do I know, Rich?!” he says, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly next to the front door. “I have never drunk rum under this roof”

Richie gives up eventually and, after taking his shoes off, throws himself on the couch. "It's not even 1am, we're so old. Especially you. You're so old, Eds. Look what you've done to me."

Eddie crinkles his nose and heads for the fridge “I’ve done nothing to you, dickwad. You’re the one that wanted to come home”, he grabs one of Richie’s beers from the top shelf. “I could’ve partied all night” he says as he plops down next to him on the couch, but even he knows that’s a blatant lie.

"Don't even try that card on me, you were falling asleep on the bar. Weak." He picks de remote. They've already watched almost everything there is on Netflix.

On the corner of his eye he sees Eddie drink from a beer and waits for the right moment to snatch it. Eddie protests but Richie is already drinking from it.

“Get your own beer, asshole!” Eddie says as he takes it back. The sudden movement causes some of the beer Richie was trying to drink to drip down his chin, which he cleans off with the back of his sleeve. Shame, Eddie wouldn’t have minded licking it off. _Eddie, focus, man. Focus._

“You’re fucking disgusting”, he says instead.

Richie falls back into the couch, he feels like melting with it. "Your mom didn't think so when I was--"

Eddie punches him on the shoulder, harder than intended. “Shut up about my mom!” then teases. “You couldn’t get it up for a woman if your life depended on it!”

"Ouch!" Richie cackles. "Bitch, I did that for years! I just had to pretend they weren't! That's just how powerful I am."

Eddie shifts on the couch to face Richie, lounging and propping his head against his hand, as he picks something random to watch. “How did you do that?” he asks, “Pretend they weren’t, I mean”

Richie clears his throat. He never thought Eddie would want to know that kind of stuff. Not with the way he reacted to the news the first time. "Uhh-- I closed my eyes... And I was... obviously awful in bed. Probably why all those girls left me eventually" he chuckles. "Shit"

“So you’re admitting you're awful in bed, huh?” Eddie laughs it off.

"Well, I know you're clearly not an expert in the matter, Eds, but not wanting to eat your partner out ever and trying not to look at them is clearly a red flag in a relationship", Richie laughs, at this point it's all he can do. He's a little bit sorry for wasting those girls' time back then but his hands were tied.

They start watching Pirates of the Caribbean because it's a classic.

Well, apparently Eddie’s marriage had been full of red flags and he had never realized it. He can’t remember a time when he actually wanted to spend time with Myra, let alone have sex with her. He’d done it, of course. Because it was his marital duty, wasn’t it? But he had not looked forward to it; not even once. Yep, that should’ve sounded the alarms.

Pirates of the Caribbean presents little to no interest for Eddie. For one, he had never been a fan of Johnny Depp’s quirky characters, and this Jack Sparrow guy was one of the worsts. He couldn’t help but think how he must reek, how filthy his teeth were and how much grime would be contained in that mess of a hair.

“I know soap was not popular back then, but for God’s sake, he spends his life in the sea” he grimaces, and waves his hands at the TV. “Couldn’t he just… dip his clothes in the water and then wash himself or something?” Will Turner’s character enters the scene. “See? This guy looks much more presentable”

"That might be where all the sexual tension resides, though! They look like they could end up fucking every time they talk! Don't even deny it!" Richie sits up straight and leans in, putting his hand between them to measure the distance. "The dude gets this close" he says, and lays back, his arm around the edge. Indirectly around Eddie.

Eddie tenses in reaction to the sudden closeness, then takes in Richie’s words and gapes. “Wh-- You thin--” he feels the proximity of Richie’s warmth, his arm close but not touching him. “The what?! There’s no sexual tension. You’re-- You’re reading too much into it”

Richie stares at him. "Of fucking course you can't see it! You're too straight, I already told you! But, I can tell. Mr. William Turner--" he says in a British accent, "is digging some dick. The man is curious."

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. _Straight, yes_. Eddie is the epitome of heterosexuality. But he can’t tell Richie how wrong he is. He can’t tell him how his supposedly _too straight_ best friend would like to rip off his clothes and pin him down on this couch right now. That thought process is kind of difficult to put into words.

Richie turns to him again. "Are you okay, man? You're very quiet, it's freaking me out. Where's my Eddie ' _pain in the ass_ ' Spaguetti? You're supposed to be more annoying as you get older! How are you gonna keep up with my shit!?”

“I’m not a pain in the ass!” Eddie protests, and swats Richie on the shoulder. "And I've kept up with your shit for as long as I remember", he looks at Richie, warningly. "It's not about to change now”

"What's it, then? You can't hold your booze, is that it? You tiny grandma" Richie teases him.

“Nothing’s wrong, geez. If I talk it’s bad and if I don’t it’s bad too” Eddie says, defensively. “There’s no way to please you, is it?!”

Richie picks up the beer from the table again and chugs it down like a champ, he leaves a couple fingers of it. "That pleased me"

Eddie grabs the beer and drinks what’s left. He doesn’t even give it a second thought until Richie looks at him wide-eyed.

“Move your stupid ass and get me another beer, dickhead” he says, as he hits him again, softly. “You practically drank mine”

"Fuck you, I bought that beer, I was its rightful owner!" he protests, but eventually gets up and goes for two more beers. "You're lucky you're so small, otherwise, I'd fight you" He sits back on the couch next to Eddie.

Eddie scrunches up his nose, “Just because you’re bigger that doesn’t mean you’d win. I’m clearly stronger than you” and sips at the beer Richie hands him.

Richie hums playfully. "I admit you're ripped but it's all about the looks for you, my strength is about size and you know what? There's nothing you can do about that. Plus, if I remember correctly I beat your ass when we arm wrestled”

“Oh, that’s cute, Rich” he says, smiling teasingly, “that you actually think you won”

Richie frowns, “I did win”

“I let you win, asshole! I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

And then Eddie processes what Richie just said moments ago. That he thought Eddie was ripped, that it was all about the looks. Did Richie think he was… attractive?

Richie cackles. "Keep lying to yourself if that's what turns you on, Eds, I'm just speaking facts here"

 _‘Apparently, you turn me on’_ he thinks, but facepalms internally instantly, ‘ _Stop that thought process right now, Eds’_.

Eddie turns away from Richie, leaning his back against the couch and fixing his gaze on the TV. Their bodies are closer now, but Eddie feels the release of some of the tension as he breaks eye contact. “Here's a fact: you're stupid.” 

Eddie can see Richie from the corner of his eye, smiling at him, goofily. So he elbows him on the side. “Are watching the movie or what?”

And he realizes, because it's very obvious, that he’s looking for every excuse to touch Richie in any way he can. But he’s not complaining, and Eddie is very straight in his eyes, right? So, there’s really no harm in doing keeping his arm pressed against Richie’s side after that.

After a while, Richie's phone buzzes, and Eddie angles his head in its direction. A message. " _Congrats on your show. I'll contact you with the next one soon. X. Travis._ " Richie reads out loud.

Eddie grabs his beer, drinks from it and tries to scratch off the beer label. “Travis, huh? Are you two…” he asks as he doesn't already know they're not.

"What? No, no, well, he tried but uh-- no, nope."

He feels bold, so he asks. “Why not?”

It's silly, doing this to himself. Richie's not going to give him the answer he's hoping for.

"Why not Abigail?"

That takes Eddie by surprise. 

“She didn't--” he gapes, “it didn't feel right”

"Yeah, well, he's not my type, I... I like them ‘fiercer’. He's too spoiled. And young." Richie feels stupid talking about it. A _type_. His type is one person. That's it. But the alcohol has loosen his mouth.

“You're gonna have to lower your standards, man” Eddie says, and frowns, “And what the fuck do you mean by ‘fiercer’? You looking for a panther or a boyfriend?”

Richie sighs. "Hey! Fuck you! I know what I want, I'm not gonna get off with random dudes just because I'm lonely. That's how my standards work. Plus, I have all I need here: a dildo in my room and a friend on the couch."

Eddie short circuits. He's sure he meant to make some comment about what Richie said, but he can't remember after hearing those words. 

“I… didn't need to know that” 

And it's true, he didn't; which doesn't mean he won't enjoy picturing it in his head.

There's something erotic about making Eddie flustered about his preferences, Richie thinks. He could be uncomfortable in a bad way but it doesn't feel like that. It feels just like another way of teasing his friend. 

"No way... that's all it gets for you to get shy?! Damn, Eds, that's kinda sad" he's teasing him, for the rest of his days, Eddie knows it. But it's all teasing. 

But it works. "And here I thought it'd be fun to start listing all the stuff from this house that I've tried to shove up my ass", Richie laughs his ass off right after saying it.

Richie leans in and pats Eddie on the chest. "Jesus, look at your face. You're hilarious when you're mad at me. I love it. I'm gonna do that every day from now on."

Eddie averts his gaze, grabbing his beer and leaning back on the couch, stretching out his arm just above Richie's shoulders. “Shut up”, and he drinks, and keeps drinking, and then some more, hoping it'll cover how affected he had been by Richie's hand on his chest.

Richie finishes his beer and leaves the bottle on the table. "I'm done drinking for tonight. I'm older than him", he says pointing at Jack Sparrow on the TV. "You're even older, though"

It's like all the beer has rushed up to Eddie's head because his gaze travels to the curls on the back of Richie's head and he feels confident enough to tangle his fingers around a handful of hair and give it a tug.

Richie gasps, his head is tilted back slightly, and it's sudden, deafening. Not a moan but definitely close. And time stands still.

Eddie freezes, heart pounding in his chest. He considers taking his hand away, but that's not what he wants. What he wants is to find out if that was a product of his mind or if Richie really gasped at the contact. 

So he moves his hand down and rests it on his nape, brushing his fingers against the skin. This time he fixes his eyes on Richie's face.

Richie's confidence falters. Plain as day. "Eddie... you're... very touchy when you're drunk", he fakes a smile but it looks nervous, when he turns to him.

Eddie swallows. “You've already said that”. He searches Richie's face and… something's happening, isn't it? He can't be making this up. “I'm not drunk, though”

"Eds... you might be giving a man the wrong impression"

Richie is clearly flustered, he's breathing heavily and holding his gaze. It can't get any more obvious, can it? Eddie sure hopes so because he can't hold back. He won't hold back.

He tightens his grip on Richie's neck and leaps on him, pressing their lips together with such forcefulness he hurts himself. Eddie's free hand travels to Richie's collar, as he deepens the kiss. He propels himself up and straddles him.

Richie kisses back, pungling his tongue into Eddie's mouth, as he grabs at his shirt. He breathes out through his nose, incapable of breaking the kiss, as intense as it is, moaning in the back of his throat. Until he realises what is actually going on and breaks away. "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, whatareyoudoing--" his eyes are still closed.

Eddie pulls back only just. “What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?” he breathes into Richie's mouth before kissing him again. He moves his hand down Richie's collar and undoes the first button of his shirt.

Richie kisses back, but it's unsure. "Eds, this-- can't happen, you're going to kill me, I'm-- I'm gonna hate me for this in the morning--" he says between kisses, and it sounds almost pained, "but It can't be a one time thing--" He shudders when Eddie quickly finishes unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm in love with you.”

“Hmm that's great because I don't intend to do this just one--” he whispers against his lips, and then he takes in Richie's words, and he stops kissing him. “You're in love with me?”

Richie just stares drunkenly at him. "I-- I told you I knew what I wanted"

"Me? You wanted me?" Eddie looks back at him, dumbfounded. “Why the fuck didn't you say something?”

"You're straight!"

“Does this look--” Eddie says, and rolls his hips up, rubbing his ass against Richie's hard-on, “--fucking straight to you?”

Richie groans. "Kiss me, again" he whispers, again sounding like a plead.

“Don't tell me what to do” he warns, but he does kiss him again, biting at his lower lip and running a hand through Richie's curls.

"I've wanted this-- since I was like 12" Richie manages to say between kisses. His hands move to Eddie's face and neck and hold him close, as they explore each others' mouths.

"Shut up, Richie" Eddie replies as he takes off his own shirt while Richie discards his.

He can feel Eddie's chest against his, skin against skin, and it's so warm he could die happy.

Eddie doesn't stop kissing him, and his hand travels down desperately to Richie's pants. He palms his erection and Richie jerks his hips, groaning in his mouth. Eddie smiles into his lips, smugly. Richie's hands are grabbing at his hair and face, as he ravishes his mouth. He’s never been desired like this. He’s never desired anyone like this.

"Shit, what do you want me to do? Anything"

"Take them off" he orders, "Now"

Richie pushes Eddie off of him and gets rid of his pants as fast as it's humanly possible. Eddie is already grabbing at him to pull him back on the couch but Richie stops him. "W-W-Wait a moment, I need to--" he kneels in front of him and looks up at his belt. "Can I--?"

Eddie looks down, and it inevitably reminds him of the dream. He has to bite his lower lip, so he won't give it away. 

“Yes. Yes” he says, nodding along. “Fuck”

Richie starts fumbling with the belt and then lets the trousers fall as he starts peppering kisses along Eddie's thighs. "Jesus, I'm so hard I could pound nails with it" he mutters and chuckles, but it sounds horny. He mouths at Eddie's concealed cock.

“It's that what you understand by dirty talk?” he groans, and rolls his hips searching for contact.

Richie licks his length over the fabric of his underwear.

“Fuck, Rich. Fucking do something”

"My mouth is gonna be very busy, so dirty talking is on you" He pulls down Eddie's boxers. "Fuck, this is crazy" His mouth presses against the side of Eddie's cock, hot and wet, and takes in his scent. His eyes drift upwards and there's a moment of silence as their eyes lock before "fuck my mouth" comes out of his lips.

Eddie can't believe this is happening. Richie is really asking him to do that and he's not about to decline the offer. But he's so fucking confused, it’s just too similar to his dream, and he really doesn't want to wake up from this.

“Okay” it’s all he manages to say in a raspy voice.

Richie's mouth engulfs his head and moves his tongue in a way that makes Eddie's knees buckle. 

Eddie holds Richie in place by the back of his head. His fingers tangle in his curls as he thrusts forward. He can't help but groan as Richie looks up at him with hollow cheeks and glassy eyes. He thrusts again. One, two, three times. Carefully at first, then rougher as Richie pats him on the thigh, urging him to.

“This feels so much better than in m--” 

Talking becomes entirely too difficult with Richie's mouth around his cock, “Fuck”

Richie pulls away with one last quick wet kiss against the head, pushes Eddie on the couch again, takes off his boxers and climbs on top of him. It doesn't feel real, their cocks touching, the skin against skin. The sweat, the scent, their breaths mingling. As Richie starts kissing the crook of his neck, Eddie's hands go straight to his ass and his cock presses up against it.

"I want you so bad, Eddie, you don't get it" he laughs breathily.

Richie whimpers, rubbing against Eddie's cock, encouraging him to go further, do more.

"How bad?" Eddie asks, squeezing his ass and pulling him even closer while he remains unmoving.

"So bad, it's stupid, you're stupid" he kisses Eddie deeply and bites on his lower lip. "Just fuck me, you asshole!"

Eddie presses the tip of his cock against Richie's entrance, only just. 

“Ask nicely” he teases.

And in all honesty, it's taking Eddie all his willpower not to fuck him right fucking now.

"Please" Richie sighs against his mouth. "I... love the beard, by the way"

They're still locking eyes and it feels so intimate it hurts. This is real. Bill was right. He could've had this so much sooner. "Yeah?"

"Yeah"

Eddie smiles and jerks his hips once more, but then he realizes he doesn't know what to do next, and his confidence falters. 

“I want to, Rich but I--” he sounds lost, “How should I--”

"You okay with doing this raw? Like, I wasn't expecting this... I don't have condoms or--"

"I-- yeah, yeah, I trust you?"

"I wouldn't do it if I thought--"

"Yeah, okay, just do it"

Richie spits into his hand, grabs his cock and pushes it against his hole. "Talk to me or kiss me, Kaspbrak"

He starts moving his hips up and down, so it enters him slowly and gets used to it. It's not the first time he's done this raw but he'd rather forget about any prior experience because he wishes it had been Eddie. Every single first time for him should've been Eddie.

Richie feels tight and so different from what Eddie's experienced before. He can't fucking believe he's been missing this. He can't fucking believe he hadn't realized before how much he wanted this. Eddie’s hands move on to Richie's hips, nails digging into the skin as he holds him in place when he rocks forward. Every thrust is accompanied by a grunt the comes directly out of the back of Eddie's throat. He bites his lower lip and furrows his brow, trying to focus on keeping a steady rhythm instead of fucking him mercilessly like he wants to do.

Richie is so horny and gone that the discomfort caused by the friction quickly turns into abrasive pleasure. And soon, Eddie is completely inside of him. Richie kisses his jaw and the scar on his cheek.

A sigh of relief escapes Eddie's lips as he's being kissed and feels himself inside Richie. He doesn't move for a moment, afraid he will come in a matter of seconds if he does.

“Does it hurt?” he asks through round eyes, “I've never been this hard in my life”

It's not technically true. He had been this hard when he had the dream and jerked off in the shower afterwards. But he guesses that doesn't matter, because Richie was the reason anyway.

Richie kisses him on the lips and his eyes are closed shut as he whispers. "Not gonna lie, it hurts like a motherfucker, but it'll get better when you start moving, so fucking move"

Eddie swallows hard. “Okay. Okay”

He starts moving, and he holds on to Richie's hips to slide in and out of him. He feels his head spin, blood rushing out his brain and air escaping his lungs. It's overwhelming.

As Eddie pounds into him, they keep their eyes locked, and when Eddie finds the right spot Richie cries out against his lips. "Fuck! There!”

Eddie doesn't understand exactly what happened, but seeing Richie's face, parted lips and eyes pressed together in the form of sheer pleasure, he wants to do it again. Whatever that is. So he rocks forward, rough, boring his eyes into his, and there's that little whimper again. Eddie smiles proudly, and thrusts again, this time more confidently.

Richie starts touching himself with one hand, as he grabs the edge of the couch's back with the other, pining Eddie. "I fucking love you" he moans against his mouth. "Shit, that's so fucking embarrassing, forget about it"

“Fuck, Richie” he says, and emphasizes with a thrust. “I” _Thrust_ “Fucking” _Thrust_ “Love you” _Thrust_ “Too” _Thrust_.

He takes in the view, the way his shoulders seem even broader, and they way he moves, not quite riding him but allowing Eddie to take full control of the situation. The way his arm muscles flex and his fingers wrap around the base of his cock as he jerks off.

"Did you just-- Y-you love me? You don't have to say stuff just because I say it, I just can't shut up”

Eddie looks bewildered, too horny to have this conversation now. There's literally no blood left in his brain.

“You're insufferable and I still want to spend every fucking minute with you. Yes, I love you, asshole”

Richie grabs his head and kisses him, open-mouthed and wet. His tongue brushes against Eddie's and it causes him to moan loudly. 

He fixes his gaze there, on Richie's throbbing cock being pumped by him. Eddie wraps his fingers around Richie's wrist and he stops.When their eyes meet, Eddie speaks, “I want to jerk you off”

The moment Eddie's hand wraps around his cock, he knows he won't last, but he starts riding him with the stamina left in his body.

His hand is too dry against Richie's skin, so he takes it away to lick his palm. When he's about to wrap it around him again, Richie grabs his hand and places it right under his chin, his stubble scratching only just. He spits on it gently, and Eddie’s hips jerk up in response.

“Not much of a bodily fluids hater now, huh?”

Eddie chooses that moment to wrap his hand around Richie's hard-on, wet and warm and terribly tight. 

“Shut the fuck up” he says, and then gives it a pump, “Or I won't let you come”

Richie moans again, searching for his mouth with his. "Fuck, that's hot". He's found a pace that seems to work for both of them and he's riding him like a champ. He knows he'll be sore tomorrow. Everywhere. He's no spring chicken. But it's worth it, so worth it.

It's taking all of Eddie's mental strength not to let go and allow the orgasm that is building in his lower stomach take over him. He wants to make this last a bit longer, just a bit. He wants to get Richie to come first so he can see his orgasm face when he comes inside him.

His hand still slides up and down, stroking him with a firm grip, and speeding up the rhythm as Richie moves up and down on him, gripping at his shoulders for support and pressing his forehead against Eddie's.

And then Richie comes, white stripes hit Eddie's chest and stomach as Richie moans his name repeatedly and incoherently, trying to kiss him at the same time.

Eddie holds him in place by the hips and thrusts ruthlessly. His chest heaves and he shivers in anticipation as he feels the orgasm taking over. One of his hands travels up Richie's chest until it reaches his mouth. Eddie is kissing him, but he pulls back a little bit, grazing his thumb against Richie's lips. 

Richie kisses it softly in response, but that’s not what Eddie wants. He pushes his thumb forward, trying to part his lips. Richie gets the message and obliges, brushing his tongue against it and catching it between his teeth while he makes eye contact.

And that’s what does it. That image of Richie pushes him over the edge. His thrusts become frantic and erratic until he finally comes inside him, moaning ‘ _Fuck, Rich. Fuck’_ and pressing his eyes shut because it's all entirely too much.

Richie can feel Eddie shooting inside him and he kisses him hotly and lazily. Like he's done it 100 times before. Like it's natural. "That was... the best sex of my life. And I'm 40. That's so pathetic of me." He's sweaty, tired and sore. But Eddie's arms are around him and his mind is still screaming. 

Eddie just fucked his brains out. On his couch. He just fucked the love of his life. And that is terrifying. Because it's the only thing he's ever wanted and it'd be so easy for Eddie to turn this memory into something painful.

He nuzzles at Eddie's neck and against his better judgement allows himself a couple minutes of vulnerability. "Please, don't change your mind now. Please. Please. I- meant what I said. If you--"

Eddie shushes him softly, still worn out from the orgasm, “Richie,” and he feels the itchiness of stubble against skin. Best feeling in the world if you ask him

“I meant what I said too. Just-- relax, man. I'm supposed to be the paranoiac one in this relationship” and he says that without thinking.

Richie straightens himself. "You want a relationship with me. For real. You've lost your fucking mind" he chuckles nervously. "Wow, this is... This is wild. Wow. I, Richie Tozier, have a relationship with Eddie Kaspbrak. With sex and everything." He blinks, staring blankly at front. "You know, if I get up tomorrow and this was a dream? I'm going to shoot myself in the face."

Eddie smiles, wrinkles forming around his eyes. “Not a dream. I should know” he says, but Richie doesn't understand. Of course, he doesn't. “And yes, I want a relationship with you. For real. With sex and everything; especially sex... I've been having intercourse with the wrong gender my whole life”

“Anything you want, I'll do. I'm at your service. I'll be your sex slave, Eds”

Eddie swats him on the chest playfully and smiles. “Shut up and get off of me, asshole. We need to take a shower.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me, Kaspbrak” Richie says teasingly.

Eddie huffs, standing up and heading for the bathroom. “I'm already regretting this”

***

Richie wakes up the next morning, and thanks every deity known to man the moment he reaches across the bed and finds Eddie sleeping peacefully. He can't understand how it happened. He can't believe how lucky he is.

He picks up the phone from the nightstand and opens the Losers' Club WhatsApp group.

" _Anyone knows how to get an annulment for an annulment?_ "

A few seconds later, there's a response from Mike. " _I knew it_ ".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you liked it! We did, we had so much fun!  
> This chapter is so fucking long.
> 
> Come talk shit with us on Twitter @moskafleur @_excalipurr

**Author's Note:**

> More to come


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